


A Kind of Magic

by Merzibelle



Series: The Most Noble House of Torchwood [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merzibelle/pseuds/Merzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ianto Jones learns his daughter, Hermione Granger, is about to be resorted, he makes a dramatic return to the Wizarding World.  Now he and Jack are the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professors and will bring the Wizarding World into the Twenty-first Century... whether it likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: All Torchwood up to S2X06 Reset; Harry Potter up to the end of Goblet of Fire
> 
> Disclaimer: Torchwood is ©2006-2009 British Broadcasting Service Wales (BBC Wales). Harry Potter is ©1997-2007 J. K. Rowling. Copyrighted material is used without permission of the BBC with no intention of profit from the works contained herein.
> 
> Original Publication/Copyright: 13 January 2010
> 
> Additional Author's Note: Since I stopped reading the books after Goblet of Fire and also stopped watching the movies with Goblet of Fire, Blaise Zabini is male in this series of stories.

 

**A KIND OF MAGIC**

***PROLOGUE***

Hermione Jane Granger stood in the dilapidated drawing room and stared at the Black Family Tapestry. Perhaps glared at would be a better term as the worn and tattered cloth taunted her with its mere presence. It was easy to ignore the owls. The house was unplottable after all. Hidden by the Fidelius Charm with only Albus Dumbledore able to tell where it was. Thus, there was little chance of either set of her parents being able to find her until she was ready. She should have been able to study, think, and prepare for her upcoming fifth year. She had OWLs to study for, as well as the usual course work, yet all she could do was stare at this tapestry.

This damned tapestry.

The Black Family Tree in all its pureblood glory took up the entire wall before her. And if she sat, she couldn’t see it. But standing, oh standing it was right there in front of her – inescapable – all but accusing her of being a blood traitor for turning her back on her family. It was a piece of fabric. Nothing more, yet it seemed determined to ruin her piece of mind by constantly reminding her she wasn’t Hermione Jean Granger but Hermione Jean Lestrange. According to the tapestry she was the oldest child of Sarin Iohannes Lestrange, she had a much younger sister named Mica Adara Lestrange. Even her father was on the tapestry. Listed as Jack Harkness Parkinson, Sarin’s betrothed. Yet none of those facts mattered one bit when just a few inches to one side was the name of one of the most feared of Voldemort’s followers, and apparently her grandmother, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. Her jaw clenched as she stared from that name to her own and back again. It was a never ending cycle – from herself, to Sarin, to Bellatrix and back again.

“Hermione?”

Harry’s voice disrupted her brooding. She sighed softly, twisted and gave Harry what she hoped was a bright smile. His soft laugh told her she’d failed miserably.

“Ron told me you were in here again.” Harry crossed the room to sit on the floor in front of her chair. He rested his back against the lower front and tilted his head up to look at the tapestry. “So, what’s so interesting about the tapestry?”

Hermione leant down just a bit to be closer to Harry’s angle of view. Finding her name again from the lower position, she merely pointed at it. She watched him, saw him squint behind his glasses, and sat back in the chair. She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on her upraised knees to await Harry’s reaction.

“You didn’t know, did you?” Harry asked softly. He turned around to kneel on the floor in front of the chair. “Hermione?”

“No.” Hermione shook her head for a moment. “I found out just before I arrived here with Dobby.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

"I don't know how,” Hermione murmured the words softly. It wasn’t something she liked to admit to, not knowing what to do, but she had to in this case. Of all the people she knew, Harry was likely the only one to understand the depths of her shock and confusion. “It's a shock. I knew I was adopted. My parents told me when I received my first Hogwarts letter. I knew who one of my birth parents was. Learning my other parent was also a man, _and_ a Lestrange, just happened.”

"Do you know anything about him? Your Lestrange parent, I mean?” Harry asked the question as he settled comfortably on the floor. After a moment, his forehead wrinkled a bit. ““For that matter, how can you have two men for parents?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione frowned. She really hated not knowing the answers to a question she was asked. “I didn’t really stick around to listen to their explanations after Ianto told me his real name.” She sighed softly before answering Harry’s first questions. "I spent part of the summer with him and my Father.” Hermione laughed a little as she thought of those first few weeks at Torchwood Cardiff. “He works for him. He's an archivist. Smart. Likes to say he knows everything.” She frowned at Harry and playfully smacked the back of his head when he chuckled at her. “But does any of that matter? He's a Lestrange."

"So?” Harry threw her own tendencies right back at her. Before now, she’d always let people stand on their own merits not their family histories. “Sirius is a Black. That doesn't mean he's an evil man."

"He lied to me.” Hermione glared at the tapestry again as if it could explain why her father had lied to her as he’d done. “I didn't even know he was a Lestrange until the day I left to come here." She paused for a moment to recall that scene. It didn’t matter to her that Ianto, Sarin, whatever he was called, had been as much in the dark as her. Instead, she spat, "And he was a Slytherin."

"I'm not sure that it matters.” Harry smiled. He reached out and covered her hand, squeezing it gently, and continued, “No, don't start spouting _Hogwarts: A History_ to me. I wonder if Sirius knows anything about him?"

"I wouldn't know how to ask.” Hermione flushed as she realized that twice in one conversation she admitted to not knowing something. “I'm suddenly a pureblood wizard, or so he said, and descended from one of Voldemort's most loyal followers. I can't say anything... what would happen? You know how some of our housemates are."

"You don't have to say anything. But I can ask him. Say I was looking at the tapestry and found this name I'm curious about. A Lestrange nobody knows."

"You'd do that?"

"Why not?” Harry responded with one of his trademark grins. “I'm curious.” The grin faded into a near smirk as Harry twisted about to look at the tapestry again. “Besides a Lestrange that doesn't spout the Voldemort line? Someone like that could be useful to us...” he paused for a moment and the smile turned friendly. “Plus, I'm your friend. Helping you is part of the being a friend thing."

"Okay.” Hermione let the friend naming go. They both knew they were more than mere friends. Harry confided in her. She confided in him. They just had yet to truly define their relationship. That definition was one of the things she was working on when she wasn’t staring at this tapestry. “He said he got resorted...” she trailed off for a moment with a shudder. “That he was pushed out by his house and resorted into Slytherin. I'm afraid if people find out I'm actually a Lestrange, they'll do it to me too."

“So we keep this quiet until we know better.” Harry stood, pulled Hermione up from the chair, and hugged her tightly. “Sirius knows everything about the family's history. And as a last resort there is Kreacher." He held her for a moment before releasing her. He stroked her hair back from her face to smile down at her. “Now, to the real reason I was sent up to find you. Molly’s got dinner ready.”

"Okay.” She knew he’d know her response was both for the message and for his offer. She smiled, took his hand and headed for the door. She rested a hand on the doorknob and turned back to him before opening it. “Thanks, Harry." Giving him a nod, she pulled open the door and headed downstairs for dinner leaving him to follow or head off to deliver additional messages.

*** CHAPTER ONE ***

Ianto settled on the break area sofa with his cup of coffee and his diary. The official reports were done save for Jack’s signature, but he needed to sort his head out again. For the first time since Canary Wharf, he’d fired a weapon against another human being. He uncapped his pen, an old style fountain pen similar to the quills of his younger years, and settled in to write.

_Torchwood Case 2007.02.09.06 – The Pharm – has concluded today. While we were unable to rescue the aliens being experimented on, we were able to release them from their suffering. The Pharm was doing many good things – discoveries that would make all our lives easier – yet their methods were as bad as those used a generation ago in Germany. Still, we shut them down after nearly losing Martha to the Mayfly (Alien #2007.0906.A). We also nearly lost Owen. Dr. Aaron Copley, on hearing that we would be shutting down the labs completely, including euthanizing the experimental subjects, objected to our actions. He proceeded to hold us at gunpoint. Owen, in an atypical manner, attempted to reason with the other doctor. However, I saw that such reasoning would ultimately result in failure and possibly the loss of one or more of my teammates. Having a clear line of sight to our current enemy, I took the only possible recourse left to us. A single shot to the head eliminating Dr. Copley._

_It disturbs me how easy it was for me to kill the doctor. Just a matter of lifting my arm, firing, and then putting the gun away again afterwards. Even the Killing Curse is harder as it requires both knowledge and intent to harm. The last time I killed, which was in fact the first time I’d killed, was at the Tower. I killed to protect my friends, my colleagues, even as I sought to find my then lover, Lisa. Though I’ve carried a gun, even proved my skill with one to Jack in the firing range, I’ve not had to use it since. In fact, the last time I drew my gun on anyone was when that Blowfish held a teenager hostage in Splott. Then I couldn’t keep my hand steady enough to take the shot, as I was concerned for the hostage’s safety… Luckily, Jack’s timely return from his trip with the Doctor saved that event from becoming a true disaster._

_Still, I am disturbed by how easy it was for me to kill. To put aside the values I learned from my adoptive parents, take up a weapon, and kill a man. My birthmother does this all the time – indiscriminately if the reports about her are accurate – and while my earliest memories are confused, I know I do not want to be…_

The distinct pop that accompanies apparition pulled Ianto from his writing. Hurriedly capping his pen, he scanned the Hub while discretely reaching for his wand. Gwen’s soft squeal gave him a direction to look in, but her squeal wasn’t one of fear but surprise as the house elf, Dobby from the look of him, had appeared nearly on top of her. Ianto closed his diary, with the pen secured inside, and rose to his feet. “Dobby? What are you doing here?”

“Master Sarin. Dobby is sorry for disturbing Master Sarin, sir.” The ugly little elf babbled. Ianto barely restrained from rolling his eyes. Dobby was, to Ianto at least, a vastly inferior specimen of a house elf. Both Mipsy and Libby were better representatives of their race. Perhaps it was the influence of the Malfoys. "Dobby thought Dobby should talk to Master Sarin about what is happening to Missy Hermione.” The house elf nodded as if this was the most important thing in the world. “Wheezy and Wheezy’s friend have turned the Gryffindors against Missy Hermione and Master Harry Potter, sir. All but one hate Missy Hermione and Master Harry Potter, sir. Dobby has been very busy defending Master Harry Potter, sir.” The elf paused for breath. Its eyes were wide and wet. “Hexes all the time. Even from friends! And they want to resort Missy Hermione into Slytherin and Master Harry Potter, sir, will go with her and Dobby thinks that is wrong, Master Sarin, sir."

Ianto snarled. The sound was loud in the suddenly silent Hub. He could feel his magic wanting to snap the restraints he put on it years before when he left the Wizarding World for muggle London. Far above, Myfanwy launched herself from her nest with a raucous cry. His familiar was reacting to his anger as history repeated itself. It was his own school years all over again. He’d be damned if they’d force this resorting on his daughter. If she wanted it, fine, that was one thing, but to force it. Oh no, this was not happening.

“Dobby, give me just a minute and then I’d like you to take me to Hogwarts,” Ianto ordered. He then turned toward Jack. “I need to…”

“Excuse me,” Gwen interrupted. Ianto continued to grab his things – wand, gun, suit jacket, coat – even as he listened to Gwen’s questions. “Are you telling me that the _coblynau_ and the _bwca_ are real?”

“Yes, Gwen,” Ianto replied. He held up his arm and whistled for Myfanwy. With another ear shattering screech, she dove down from the upper levels, her size shrinking to that of a large falcon as she plummeted, to perch on his wrist. Ianto stroked his fingers over her crest as she settled and looked to Jack. “Jack, I’ve got to go. Meet me there?” He waited just long enough for Jack to nod before reaching out to Dobby. With a crack of apparition, they were gone.

"Jack...” Gwen began, slowly and carefully. “Aliens, fine. Time-traveling doctors, sure. But elves and brownies?"

"Clarke's Law, Gwen.” Jack trotted out his usual explanation for anything regarding the Wizarding world. He barely refrained from a laugh as Tosh’s eyebrow rose in response. He needed to get moving as he did not want Ianto to be waiting too long for him. Though knowing the mood Ianto was in right now, there would be no waiting when the young wizard arrived at Hogwarts. “You're in charge. Tosh, be waiting to hear from me or Ianto. We may need your assistance if things are as bad as we expect them to be.” He turned to Martha with a pleading look. “Martha, stay and help out? Call in some of the UNIT boys if you need support. I need to settle Mica and follow Ianto."

“Rhys and I can take care of Mica. Go take care of whatever...” Gwen waved her hands in the air as she had no idea what Ianto had gone to do. “But Jack, we're going to talk, because you've been holding out on me. More than what I thought you had."

"So have you apparently,” Jack retorted. He wondered how she knew about house elves. He’d definitely need to find that detail out. “And we all will talk. Thanks, Gwen."

"Go. Don't let anything happen to Ianto. You're both slotted for godfatherhood when Rhys and I...” she trailed off with a faint blush. “Well, you know."

"Same goes..." Jack retorted with a wide grin. He flipped open the cover of his wrist strap and pressed a few keys to have it locate Ianto’s tracking chip. A soft beep announced the connection. With the coordinates set, he grinned at his remaining team. “Be good kids.” Pressing the button, Jack teleported after Ianto.

Left behind, Gwen looked at her teammates and drew in a deep breath. “All right,” she began only to immediately stop again. She looked from Martha, to Tosh, and finally over at Owen by the autopsy. “Did we just see what we seem to have seen?” She shook herself. “Yes, of course we did.” She laughed softly as old legends slipped through her mind. “Well, I always thought they were too gorgeous to be human.”

A chorus of laughter echoed in the Hub broken only by Owen’s soft harrumph. “And I bet the bastards lied about their medical histories!” he groused. He shook his head with a growl as the women began to laugh harder. “Laugh it up, ladies. I have a feeling we’re going to be very busy, very soon.”

*** CHAPTER TWO ***

Ianto staggered a half-step when he and Dobby appeared outside the doors to the Great Hall. He nodded his thanks to the house elf before shifting his attention to the soaring doors to the hall. Even with the heavy carved doors tightly closed, he could hear the excited chatter of the students within the hall. He considered for a moment, debating the merits of discretion and drama, before deciding to hell with it - when had any member of his family done anything discretely? Taking two steps back from the door, he gathered his magic, tossed Myfanwy up into the air and out of his way, and blasted open the doors before him. The doors swung open, rebounded off the walls inside and were on their return swing when Ianto stalked through them. His eyes were focused on Dumbledore, ignoring the rising chatter and demands for explanation occurring around him, and a smirk settled on his lips as his familiar screeched their combined fury as she soared above his head toward the head table. Silence fell in the room as the echoes of her cry died away.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Ianto began formally, “neither myself nor my fiancé were informed of mistreatment of our daughter by her housemates. I would like to know why this lapse occurred. I would also like to know why you feel it is necessary to resort her in her fifth year when she should be preparing for OWLs.”

“My boy,” Dumbledore began with one of his trademark smiles. “This is a school matter. There was no need to…”

Before the Headmaster could finish, there was a swooshing noise ending in a pop behind Ianto. His smirk deepened as he registered Jack’s presence in the room. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, even when Jack loudly cracked his neck before stepping to his side.

“Well, no one’s dead yet,” Jack said by way of greeting. “You must not be _too_ angry.”

“I was giving them time to dig a deeper hole.”

“Ah.” Jack grinned as he scanned the room. Not seeing who he was looking for, he shifted his attention to the head table. “So, where is _our_ daughter?”

“Miss Lestrange is waiting with Mr. Potter until her presence is requested.” The words, prim and proper, came from the woman standing between them and the head table. "How did you manage to apparate in here?"

Jack took a couple of steps around Ianto, grinned widely, and held out a hand. “Captain Jack Harkness Parkinson,” he introduced himself. “And you are?”

“Jack,” Ianto interrupted. “Stop it.” He looked up and smiled. “Professor McGonagall, any explanation of my fiancé’s arrival will, of necessity, need to wait until we’ve ascertained our daughter’s condition and mental wellbeing.” He paused for a moment, staring intently at his once head of house, before he continued more softly, “I want to be certain that she agreed to this resorting before it’s done. I do not want Hermione to go through the traumas I did when I was a student here. I’m certain you understand my concerns.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lestrange,” Professor McGonagall replied. There was genuine regret in her voice. As Ianto watched her, her eyes flicked briefly toward the Headmaster. “I’m certain accommodations can be made for you to spend some time with Miss Lestrange after the sorting.”

Before Ianto could reply, Jack’s wrist strap beeped softly. The dual tone cadence was familiar to both men as an alert to minor Rift activity in their direct vicinity. Automatically, they both pulled out weapons. Jack shoving his coat back to pull his Webley while Ianto reached beneath his coat to retrieve both his modified Sig Sauer and his wand. One look at Jack’s expression had him rolling his eyes. “Don’t even say it. We’re in a room full of impressionable children.”

Jack’s laugh echoed through the space before breaking off abruptly. “You feel that?” Seeing Ianto’s clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, he shook his head. “Stupid question. Just remember the Tower, pain and suffering are not on Dēmentāre’s preferred feeding list.” He scanned the hall. They weren’t here yet and the feeling was too subtle to be more than one. “Only one… juvenile I think.”

“I assume you know how to kill it then?” Ianto kept pace with Jack as the two men shifted closer to the doors. Ianto had to hide a smile as he watched various muggleborn students pull their pureblood friends beneath tables. “Without wrecking the Great Hall?”

“Of course.” Jack jerked his head to one side. He found it. A darker shadow within a shadow creeping up on a dark haired girl with the hardest eyes he’d ever seen in a child of roughly sixteen. Taking Ianto’s nod as both agreement and signal, Jack reached out and grabbed the girl’s wrist, pulling her up from the bench before he spun her behind him. Simultaneously, he lifted his gun and fired off two quick shots at the solidifying shade behind her. The slight burn and loud crack near his ear told him Ianto was copying him.

There was a thud which echoed just as loudly as their gunshots through the silence of the hall. Jack released the girl, stepped forward, and kicked the body before crouching down beside it. He shoved the covering cowl back, nodded, and rose again. “Damned shame Owen isn’t here,” he muttered. “I know he’d love to autopsy one.” He flipped open his wrist strap to scan the vicinity. “We don’t get Dēmentāre in Cardiff.”

Ianto stepped around the girl with an apologetic smile. He glanced down at the corpse and shook his head. “Only you, Jack,” he muttered while casting a _stasis_ charm. “I suppose you want me to call him?”

“Not yet.” Jack closed the strap again. The snaps made loud clicks in the echoing silence around them. “Think we scared them all?”

“Of course, we did.” Ianto chuckled softly. “We just took down a supposedly invulnerable Dementor without flinching.”

“That?” Jack looked back and shook his head. “That’s a second term lesson.” He shrugged. “I am getting tired of delays in seeing Hermione though.”

“You and me both,” Ianto replied. He holstered his gun, but kept his wand in hand as they headed back up the hall. “Plus, Myfanwy needs to be fed.”

“And us. No hospitality anymore. Honestly.” Jack smiled to soften the complaint. He glanced around the room and shook his head. “You’d think they hadn’t seen a gun before.”

“Actually, gentlemen,” Headmaster Dumbledore interrupted their conversation. “If you are quite through, we could complete the sorting before beginning dinner. You both are invited to join us as I’d like to discuss with you the once again vacant Defense against the Dark Arts professorship.”

Ianto looked at Jack who looked back at him with an equally blank expression. Yet his eyes asked the question – do we stay? – Ianto gave a minute nod to Jack who answered it with just a hint of a smile. Turning back to the Headmaster, Ianto nodded. “We’d be honored to join you, Headmaster,” he said. He was certain only two people in the room picked up the depths of his sarcasm as he replied.

Dumbledore waved a hand toward the far end of the table where Professor Snape sat. The table extended itself, two chairs appearing beyond the Potions Master, and Ianto again nodded. He took the steps up onto the Head Table’s dais rapidly, but paused by Professor McGonagall to whistle for Myfanwy. The pterosaur, now on the far end of the hall, gave a happy shriek before folding her wings and going into a long steep dive toward Ianto’s outstretched arm. Once again, the pterosaur slowly shrank in size until she was no bigger than a female peregrine falcon when she settled on his wrist. Smiling at his highly attentative audience, Ianto turned to follow Jack around the table where his fiancé was patiently waiting on him. Taking the seat beside Snape, he shifted Myfanwy up to his shoulder where he could easily feed her tidbits of the meal once it was served. Now, all they could do was wait.

*** CHAPTER THREE ***

Hermione paced the small anteroom where she and Harry had been sent to wait for Professor McGonagall’s summons to be resorted. She couldn’t seem to settle for more than a minute despite her body aching all over as she had yet to completely recover from the constant hexes from her soon to be former housemates. Lack of sleep had taken an additional toll on her. She looked nothing like herself and she knew it. Tired, frazzled, she couldn’t even take the time to properly arrange her clothing. She was so overtired that one glance at her slightly too short for regulations skirt was enough to push her over the edge into tears.

“Hey,” Harry said. He rose and gathered her into his arms. He gently pressed her head down to rest on his shoulder and rocked back and forth in a vain attempt to calm her down again. “Hey, now, it’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this, you and me, and we already know that Neville and Ginny are with us all the way, regardless of house.”

“But…” Hermione half-heartedly protested. She was so sick of the rivalry, of the jealousy, of suddenly being ‘death eater spawn’ just because of her name. If they weren’t jealous of her new status and presumed wealth, they hated her for being related to known Death Eaters. In just minutes, there would soon be even more reasons for the people she’d thought were her friends to hate her. “You and I both know we’re going to end up Slytherins.”

“Yeah, but at least there we know why our housemates hate us.” Harry hugged her tightly one last time as the sudden storm of tears eased off to light sniffles. He stepped back and pulled out his wand. A few quick flicks and Hermione was at least presentable for the resorting. “There. Perfect.”

A muffled chuckle slipped from Hermione. She blinked, shook her head a bit, and then just barely smiled. “You almost quoted my father there.”

“Which one?”

“Sarin,” she replied. “When he was telling me what happened to him, he said he demanded to be put into Slytherin because at least there he knew why the whole school hated him.”

Harry laughed, but nodded. It was an inescapable truth. The moment the Hat placed them in Slytherin House, everyone in the school would turn their backs on them. Harry would be presumed to be the next Dark Lord while Hermione would likely be thought of as a budding Dark Lady, watched for the first signs that she was becoming anything like her paternal grandmother. “We’ll know the same.” He considered her for a moment before starting to pace. It was always easier for him to think if he could do something active at the same time. “Hermione, considering the way the Gryffindors have turned on us,” he paused for a long moment almost afraid to speak the next words as it would be tantamount to admitting he’d been wrong for years, but they needed to be said. “Do you think we might have been wrong about the Slytherins? Maybe they aren’t as evil as we think they are…”

Before Hermione could respond, the door separating their small anteroom from the Great Hall opened to admit the Deputy Headmistress. Professor McGonagall looked more than a bit disappointed as she stared down at them. The lines around her eyes were deeper; a faint frown marred her face, while she considered them. Finally, she nodded though the motion seemed more to herself than an acknowledgement of either of her students. “We’re ready for you,” were the only words spoken.

Harry nodded and offered an arm to Hermione. There was a lot he didn’t understand about the Wizarding world. He honestly wished he had a proper mentor to teach him all the things he needed to know about this society he was now expected to navigate like a native without any proper instruction, but he did know that a lady, a proper lady, was always escorted by a gentleman into a room, even someone with as little education in manners as he knew that. With her arm linked with his, Harry led her toward the door. He reached out, resting a palm against the door and let Hermione enter the Great Hall ahead of him before rejoining her on the walk to where the Sorting Hat awaited them.

Every eye in the place was on them as they crossed the dais toward the Sorting Hat and its accompanying stool. Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Hermione seemed to revert back to that shy bookworm he’d met in first year. She ducked her head and shook her hair forward to hide behind. That just would not do. Leaning over just a bit, he murmured, “You have more courage and brains in your little finger than anyone sitting at the Gryffindor table.” Her startled look before straightening her spine brought a small smile to his face. Harry led Hermione over to the stool, waited patiently for Professor McGonagall to lift the Sorting Hat, and gallantly seated his friend. “Ladies first, Professor.”

“Very well, Mr. Potter,” the Deputy Headmistress replied. Then she nonchalantly plopped the hat on Hermione’s head.

 _Back again, Miss Grang… oh, I’m terribly sorry, Miss Lestrange._ The Sorting Hat spoke softly, almost diffidently, into her mind. _You’re still intelligent enough for Ravenclaw…_

 _No! They didn’t want me either. Slytherin, Hat,_ Hermione ordered firmly. _My father and grandparents were Slytherins. The Slytherins were the only ones who didn’t hex me on sight. Put me there!_

 _Very well…_ The Hat murmured before lifting its voice to shout, “Slytherin!”

 _Thank you_ , Hermione whispered to the Hat as it was lifted from her head. Harry’s hand appeared before her. She let him help her up, not that she needed it, and stood to one side of the stool as Harry took her place on it. She clasped her hands in front of her and struggled not to smirk as Harry argued with the Sorting Hat. She waited patiently as Harry frowned; twitched a bit, then frowned again. The hat echoed Harry’s expressions. It seemed as if there was a fierce silent argument going on before the Hat finally, almost grudgingly, cried, “Slytherin!”

Hermione barely managed to contain her surprise when Harry politely thanked the Hat before again offering her an arm. She tucked her hand into his elbow, murmuring softly, “What are you doing, Harry James Potter?”

“Being polite,” Harry replied in a confused whisper. “Since we got back this year, I’ve watched the Slytherins. When they’re amongst themselves, they act different then they do around the other Houses. I’m taking a chance that I’m right.” He paused to look at her before continuing to where the Slytherin Fifth Years had shifted about to make room for them at the table. “If the Wizarding world is slightly backwards and stuck in the nineteenth century, they’re the aristocrats. We need to figure out the rules. Starting right now…” Harry stopped beside Draco who sat with his back to the wall and inclined his head in greeting. “Malfoy, if it wouldn’t disturb you, may I seat Hermione beside you before taking the seat across from her?”

“Of course.”

To the pair of ex-Gryffindors’ surprise, the male fifth years at the Slytherin table rose to their feet and patiently waited for Hermione to settle beside Malfoy before resuming their seats at the table. Harry winked at Hermione before striding briskly around the table to seat himself beside Pansy to await the official start of dinner.

*** CHAPTER FOUR ***

Ianto looked out across the tables, noting who was watching him and Jack, and couldn’t resist the small smirk when his gaze settled on the Slytherin table. His daughter and her friend were seated beside the heir to the Malfoys, no denying who he was with that nearly white-blonde hair, and a young woman he believed was the Parkinson heiress. Reaching out, he gently rested a hand on Jack’s wrist. “The dark haired girl next to Hermione’s friend,” he murmured softly. “I believe she’s the youngest Parkinson.”

Jack hummed his agreement while reaching out for the goblet on the table. He lifted it, intending on sipping from it as cover while he observed the students, and nearly spit the contents across the table. “What the fuck is that?” Jack snapped. He all but threw the goblet back onto the table.

Jack’s disgusted reaction to pumpkin juice had everyone, student and teacher, staring at their end of the table. Ianto, well versed in Jack’s occasional drama queen moments, just shook his head and cast a soft _scourgify_. “That was pumpkin juice.”

“It’s disgusting,” Jack spat. “I’ve tasted better poisons.” He turned his patented begging look on Ianto and pouted just a bit while folding his hands in front of him. “Ianto, would you work some coffee magic?”

“Only if you watch your language in front of the students,” Ianto retorted. He lazily reached for Jack’s goblet. “Remember, impressionable young minds.”

“Gonna punish me?” Jack purred in response.

Ianto rolled his eyes and sighed. Jack was in a mood. While he was camping it up for those surrounding them, deliberately playing the fool, his eyes were cold and hard. Ianto knew exactly what that meant. He twirled the goblet in his hand, debated and leant closer to Jack. “Behave. Everything you do here reflects on me, our House, and our daughters. I know you think this world is backwards, but we have to maintain appearances. The Lestranges are one of the oldest families. Same with the Parkinsons. So…”

Jack nodded. He took a bit of meat from his plate and offered it to Myfanwy who took it with a pleased little cry. “Of course,” Jack whispered back. “I do know how to behave, Ianto. Or do I call you Sarin here?”

“Ianto.” He lifted the goblet, ran his index finger around the upper edge, and smirked at the surprised gasps from the watching students as the goblet morphed into Jack’s favorite blue and white coffee mug. He handed the mug to Jack, leant forward, and stared down the length of the head table. “Coffee for everyone?” he offered.

“Why not?” Professor McGonagall replied. She smiled down the table at the designated Slytherin end. “I haven’t had a good Irish coffee in ages.”

"Ianto's is to die for." Jack took another slow sip from his mug before setting it down and beginning the meal a lot more cautiously after the mishap with the pumpkin juice. At least the food looked normal.

"Of course, Professor.” Ianto laughed softly at Jack’s description. He was fairly certain someone had died for his coffee once, but he was completely positive. He considered for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he thought, then sighed before pulling out his wand and waving it. It was so much easier to do things without it after nearly six years without one but appearances had to be maintained for the moment. "Enjoy."

The majority of the teachers merely stared at the mugs which appeared before them. McGonagall considered hers for a long moment, reached out, lifted it and sipped. Her eyes rolled and a near purr escaped the elderly woman. She sipped again, sighed and smiled down the length of the table at Ianto. “I don't care about the Defense against the Dark Arts class. We're hiring you for cookery lessons. This is magnificent.”

Ianto chuckled in response. Yet another won over by his coffee making. "My secret is out.”

Jack, his hands full feeding a somewhat demanding Myfanwy, considered the others at the table for a moment as each started to drink the coffee Ianto had made them. He switched his attention to Ianto and queried, “Defense against the Dark Arts?"

“You know, Jack,” Ianto explained. He served himself dinner, ate a bit, and continued, “Zapping Dementors.

"We didn't zap,” Jack protested. “We shot it."

“The method is irrelevant, Mr. Parkinson,” McGonagall answered before Ianto could say anything. “What matters is you killed it.”

"Jack. Captain Harkness, if you must be formal." He gave the woman his most charming smile. "I haven't gone by Parkinson in quite some time."

“Jaaaack!” Ianto drawled warningly.

"Yes, Ianto?" Jack gave Ianto an innocent look. It would be best for everyone if the population of the castle was kept off guard for now.

“Stop it!” Ianto shook his head as Jack pouted at him.

“I don't mind, Mr. Lestrange,” McGonagall said. She gave Jack a slightly flirtatious smile of her own back before sipping again at her coffee.

"I prefer Ianto Jones, Professor."

"Ashamed of your house?" Snape sneered.

Ianto glanced over, considered the potions master for a long moment, and finally shook his head in denial. “Too long since I went by it,” he explained. “I’d honestly forget to answer to it.”

“Very well, then,” Professor McGonagall answered after a moment. Speculation shadowed her eyes as she considered him over the rim of her coffee mug. “Mr. Jones it is.”

“Thank you.” Ianto nodded to her and focused on his dinner for a few minutes before asking a question of his own. “So, you want us to teach Defense?”

“Yes. We do,” Headmaster Dumbledore replied. His eyes had their stereotypical twinkle, but there was a hard glitter beneath it. “Although you must know that there's a certain amount of,” he trailed off for a moment. “Baggage associated with the position.”

"I'm very familiar with that,” Ianto retorted. “It's only been six years since I left here, Headmaster."

"If you want us to teach, then you should know that this,” Jack interjected quietly. He picked up information on the Defense against Dark Arts post given to him by Professor McGonagall, balled it up and threw it behind him. He grinned when Ianto murmured 'two points' to him. "Is being tossed. There will be no favoritism of any kind in our classroom, the students will be expected to work, and we will be discussing more than just defensive spells. Including using things like this.” He set the Webley on the table with a decisive click.

"There will be two additional teachers joining us tomorrow.” Ianto smirked at the shocked look on the other teachers faces as they not only spoke back to the Headmaster but protested the curriculum they’d be expected to teach. “They'll bring with them other materials we'll need, information I know you won't give us, and..."

"And you will not interfere with our methods of instruction in anyway.” Jack finished before reaching up to his comm unit to press it. "Tosh, I need complete files on a list of people, anything you can find. Ianto's emailing it now. Tell Owen to raid the armory, bring up a selection of things, whatever fits in the SUV, and to acquire as much as he can in first aid materials. We'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

"Who were you talking to?” Professor Snape snarked. “I didn't see a floo."

Ianto pulled out his PDA to email their lists to Tosh. He spared a moment to smirk at Snape. "The scariest woman you will ever meet, Professor Snape. Jack, I've given Owen a few more details." He tucked the PDA away again in his coat pocket, pulled out a small bit of chocolate and gently tossed it to Myfanwy before refilling their coffee mugs and turning his attention to his dinner.

*** CHAPTER FIVE ***

While they ate, Harry had watched the head table. He wasn’t certain about the men seated by Snape. Neither were wizards, clearly muggles by their attire, but very calm ones. Then, he noticed what the younger, better dressed one of the pair was working with. "I thought electronics didn't work here?" Harry asked Hermione in confusion.

"They shouldn't,” Hermione replied. Her gaze was intent on the head table where both her fathers were intently discussing something. As she watched, Ianto tapped a key on his PDA before putting it away in his coat. “Or is this one of those things, we just assume nothing works?"

"I don't know." Harry looked around him at the fifth year Slytherin students. They were all purebloods and had been raised in the Wizarding world. Surely they’d know the answer. "Is it an assumption? Or is there a spell in place?"

While Malfoy did nothing more than sneer at them, the other students looked more thoughtful. Finally, Pansy blinked and shook her head. "We were just always told that nothing muggle worked in magical areas,” she replied quietly. “Of course, our families don’t deal with muggle things to begin with, so we don’t really know.

“Well,” Harry said, pointing at the PDA once again in Ianto’s hand. “That does. Either it is powerful enough to counteract magic or there's something going on they haven't told us about.”

“I wonder,” Hermione mused. She stared at the head table for another long moment. Then, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her mobile. She looked around the group with a small laugh. "I know, I know, against the rules. But,” she trailed off as she stared at the phone for a long moment. Finally, after giving Harry a long look, she turned it on. It beeped once as it picked up enough of a signal to work. She blinked in surprise, scrolled through the contacts list and dialed her father. Putting the phone to her ear, she stared intently at the head table.

The distinctive, if slightly tinny, strands of Moonlight Serenade echoed from Jack’s greatcoat pocket. He jumped, startled, and then shook his head. Reaching down, Jack pulled his mobile out of his pocket, looked at the caller id and then down at the student tables. Flipping the mobile open, he said "Hey Sweetheart, why didn't you just walk up?"

Hearing the answer, Ianto looked up from his meal, looked at Jack and followed his line of sight down to the Slytherin table. He barely resisted the urge to smirk at his daughter calling Jack from just a few feet away. A soft strangled noise tore his attention from Hermione to the center of the table where the Headmaster looked as if he’d just swallowed a newt. Ianto made a mental note to start discretely looking into the Headmaster’s activities.

"Students aren't allowed to, Dad,” Hermione answered with a grin.

_"Allowed what?"_

"To approach the Head Table during meals,” Hermione explained. She refrained from bouncing in her seat. Instead, she shifted the mobile around to put the call on speaker so the other fifth years could hear both ends of the conversation.

_"But you can use mobiles to call it?"_

"It was a test,” Hermione retorted. She rolled her eyes at her Dad’s soft growl. “Electronics and other muggle devices aren't supposed to work within Hogwarts." She stared intently up at her father, nodding when he set his phone down and waved her up to join him.

_“Why in the world not?_

Hermione handed her mobile to Harry, leaving it on, as this way Harry and the rest could continue to hear the conversation. She headed up to Jack. Impulsively, she hugged him before answering. “I don't know, Dad. We're just always taught that.” She shrugged and frowned in thought. “Muggleborns are told in our orientation packs that no muggle devices, like mobiles, PDAs, laptops, iPods, will work here."

“And you never tried it just out of curiosity?” Jack couldn’t believe his overly intelligent and deeply inquisitive daughter wouldn’t have attempted at least once to try to use an electronic device at the school. “None of you?” When she merely dropped her eyes from his, a deep blush darkening her cheeks, Jack sighed tiredly. He turned to Ianto, resignation coloring his voice when he finally spoke, “We have a lot of work to do here, Ianto.”

"No, I mean,…” Hermione trailed off and looked at Ianto. She could feel her blush deepening as she knew what her other parent thought of improperly done research. “It was in _Hogwarts: A History_.”

"Definitely a lot of work,” Ianto said. He shook his head with a sigh, already planning major revisions to the Defense against the Dark Arts curriculum.

“What do you mean a lot of work?” All three turned harsh looks on Harry where he’d wandered up to join their conversation. “Oh, sorry. I'm Harry Potter."

Jack stared for a long moment. He then looked over at Ianto silently asking if that was supposed to mean something to him. "Well, just how do you expect to defend yourselves or each other if you can't communicate quickly? Or even know where your enemy is? Half your education, just in defense alone, is missing."

”The most important thing about proper defense is never to take anything for granted,” Ianto interjected into the conversation. “You were all told you couldn't do something and none of you tried it. Kids your age should be all about figuring out for yourselves what the world is really like not just accepting an adult’s word at face value. But most important, not knowing the truth about something can get you killed. Someone in your position should never assume anything is what it seems or what they tell you it is.”

"He's right, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “I should have tried.”

"I know what I am, sir,” Harry replied while ignoring Hermione’s comment. “I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. The one chosen to defeat Voldemort. Nothing else matters."

“Harry!" Hermione protested.

"Excuse me?" Jack snapped. The resignation in Harry Potter’s voice ticked him off. Such resignation was merely one step away from defeat. That definitely wouldn’t do. And the fact that this whole society seemed to be allowing a teenager, a _child_ , to do their fighting for them without proper training offended him to the core.

“What for, sir?” Harry asked. He glanced at Hermione in question; however, she could only shrug in response.

Jack shook his head. He glared at everyone on general principals. “You're telling me that you've decided that your sole purpose in life is to kill this Voldemort and you aren't allowed to do or think of anything else beyond that end?"

“My parents,” Harry murmured. He looked away from the glare. “They died protecting me. Voldemort came after me because he thought I could defeat him some day. It's my duty to do it.” He half-shrugged, ending weakly, “For my parents, if nothing else.”

Knowing Jack’s temper, Ianto rested a hand on his lover’s arm to keep him silent. He nodded to Harry in acknowledgement. "Noble causes, Mr. Potter,” he said quietly. “Hermione, you might want to get your mobile back before someone damages it." Jack muttered softly in several languages about people using children to wage war. Ianto squeezed his wrist, murmuring, “I know, Jack. We’ll figure this one out.”

Jack nodded, rose. “I need to...” He clenched his jaw tightly and snatched the Webley off the table. "Dammit, there's no place here to use it.” He dropped back into chair with a frustrated growl.

“We will take care of that, too,” Ianto soothed. He knew what Jack needed, a chance to work out the frustration by shooting up targets. If he couldn’t do that, then Jack would go for intense rough sex, but that wasn’t something to mention around the children.

“Thanks, Ianto,” Jack replied with a bare hint of smile. He turned to the kids and nodded. “You should finish your dinner, study, whatever it is you do because when you get to our class...” He trailed off and flicked his gaze to Ianto who finished for him, “It won't be easy.”

“Yes, Dad,” Hermione replied. She felt really stupid for not having tried to use her phone long before now. She started down toward the Slytherin table, Harry trailing after her, and smiled at the other fifth years. She grabbed her bag, reached over and lightly tugged the mobile from Malfoy’s fingers. “So how do we get to the common room?” she asked.

The group gathered things together. As they headed out of the great hall, Malfoy lagged behind. He looked back at Jack who caught him staring. Jack raised an eyebrow in question, but Malfoy quickly ducked his head and hurried out. Jack leant over to Ianto, whispering, “That boy bears watching.”

"So does the Headmaster,” Ianto replied equally softly. “He wasn't pleased when Hermione called you."

“I wonder why he doesn't want him using electronics?” Jack asked puzzled. “We need more information.”

“Tosh will be here tomorrow.” Ianto laughed suddenly as he remembered the events which occurred before he left for Hogwarts. “I wonder what they made out of all this? I mean, Gwen's face when she saw Dobby!”

"We're under orders to be safe and to talk when we get back."

“Good Welshwoman that she is,” Ianto said with a smirk. “She's probably speed reading through all the old fairy stories.”

“I'm certain she is.”

“Do we have a designated bedroom or do we just pick one at random?” Ianto asked. He smiled at Professor McGonagall who’d joined their end of the table. “If I remember correctly, the Defense professor’s office and private rooms are off the classroom. Is that still the same?”

“You are right in your assumption, Mr. Jones,” McGonagall replied. “The quarters for the Defense against the Dark Arts professor are off the classroom.”

“Thank you, professor. I'm rather tired.” Ianto looked around somewhat guiltily. He’d not done this much magic in years. He was exhausted, yet he’d not even taken the time to reassure himself that his daughter was alright with the situation instead he’d yelled at her again for not thinking for herself. He’d have to find some time to talk to her in the next few days.

Jack rose to his feet and smiled at McGonagall. He silently offered Ianto a hand up. With Ianto’s hand in his, Jack squeezed his fingers, silently reassuring him, as he pulled him to his feet. Jack jumped slightly when Myfanwy hopped from the tabletop onto his wrist.

“Bring her, Jack,” Ianto ordered. “It's time you got used to one.”

“Like I'd leave Myfanwy behind,” Jack retorted. He gently rested his other hand on Ianto’s back and waved toward the doors. “Lead on,” he said quietly. “I don't know where we're going.”

*** CHAPTER SIX ***

For a dungeon under a lake, the Slytherin Common room wasn’t a half bad place to be. While cold and slightly damp, the chill was pushed away by the massive fireplace which dominated the common room. Black leather seemed to be the primary covering for all the furnishings in the room while small green globed lamps provided additional direct lighting in areas where students wanted to study. Hermione stared around her from beneath lowered lashes. She tried to take in everything without getting caught staring.

As she looked around, Harry settled stiffly on the sofa next to her while Draco somehow managed to flop into an armchair yet look elegant doing so. Pansy took the other armchair while Blaise Zabini took a position near the fireplace with one arm leaning against the mantle. While the other years settled at other seating groups nearby, including Crabbe and Goyle sprawling at the table just behind Malfoy’s chair, this group was left alone by the fireplace.

Hermione stared down at her mobile. She’d have to take a few minutes out of her extensive schedule to speak to her father about the best way to go about getting it recharged. Ianto was right. Having a semi-secure means of communication would definitely come in handy in the fight against Voldemort. She turned the mobile over and over in her hands as she considered the Slytherins around her. The question now – where would she sleep because she wasn’t certain she trusted anyone in the room other than Harry at the moment.

A knock from the direction of the common room door surprised everyone. One of the seventh years seated closer to the steps up to the door glared in the general direction of the door as if to scare away the person on the other side. When the knock was repeated again, he rose and jerked the door open to glare at the people on the other side. “What are you Gryffindors doing here?”

"We'd like to see Harry and Hermione,” Neville said.

Both the named students looked at each other in question. What in the world was Neville doing down here? For that matter, who’d come with him? The questions were asked in silent stares between Hermione and Harry before both turned in the direction of the door.

“We have some of their things,” came the rest of the explanation in Ginny’s familiar soprano.

“Neville, Ginny,” Harry called happily. “Come in.”

"Potter,” Malfoy drawled softly. He waited until the former Gryffindor looked over at him. “You don't just go inviting Gryffindors into Slytherin. It's not done."

“Since I'm doing it,” Harry said. He gave Malfoy a cheeky grin. “It's done. What did the elves forget, Neville?”

Harry twisted about in his seat to watch the door. First, Neville came into the room, his arms full of things, and stared about in surprise. Behind him came Ginny, also carrying an armload of stuff. She rolled her eyes and shoved Neville in the back in order to get him moving again. “Some of Hermione’s muggle things,” Ginny answered for Neville. “Your cloak and map.”

“Dobby wouldn't have forgotten these,” Harry said shortly.

“I needed to an excuse to come down here, Harry,” Neville replied. He blushed faintly as his stutter registered and a few of the Slytherin’s laughed in response to hearing it.

“I figured,” Harry said. Another grin lit his face. “What's going on, Neville?”

Neville crossed the few remaining feet separating him from the small group of fifth years by the fireplace. He leant on the back of the sofa between Harry and Hermione and smiled at them both. “The Muggleborns are all in shock over Hermione's display at dinner. Calling that man from the Slytherin table has topped your resorting for top gossip in the tower.”

“That guy is my mother, Neville,” Hermione replied. She smirked as Neville’s jaw dropped. She remembered clearly Sirius’s explanation for the images on the Black Family tapestry. The only way her dad could have been on it the way he was shown was if he was her biological mother. It was intriguing. Disturbing, but intriguing. As soon as she had a chance, she was going to have to ask her dad exactly how that worked anyway. That was a long overdue explanation.

Neville's jaw dropped. He stared at his friend in stunned surprise. He’d heard of such things, but it was very, very rare for a male wizard to carry a child to term. So rare that if it wasn’t for such an event on the Longbottom Family Tapestry, he’d never even know about it at all. He staggered a few steps around the sofa to sit abruptly in a chair. Immediately, he leapt to his feet when someone, Pansy when he looked behind him, hit him for sitting on her. "Your what?" he asked factiously.

Neville’s question was repeated, in perfect stereo, by Harry and Malfoy as the two young men looked at each other for a long moment before turning on her. “What did you just say?” they chorused.

"Captain Jack Harkness Parkinson is my mother,” Hermione said calmly over Ginny’s giggles at Malfoy and Harry.

“I think I'm going to faint,” Pansy interjected. “A Parkinson is _not_ a mother!”

“At least you're already sitting down, Parkinson,” Neville quipped from where he stood beside her chair.

“Jack is,” Hermione repeated again with a smug little smirk.

“All right, Hermione, I'll bite,” Harry said. He knew her little smirks very well now. This one was her ‘I know something you don’t’ version. “How?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “I told you I didn't get that part of the explanation yet.” She held up her mobile for a moment. She considered carefully the merits of calling Jack versus the time of day. After a moment’s thought, she shook her head again. “We’ll have to ask them tomorrow. I’m not calling them tonight.”

“So if Parkinson, Harkness,” Harry shrugged to indicate that he didn’t know which name was proper to use. “If he’s your mother, then Lestrange is your father?” At his best friend’s nod, he laughed. “Boy, no wonder the Black Tapestry was acting so smug!”

“Yup. Ianto Jones,” she paused and looked over at the other Slytherins. “That's what my father, Sarin Lestrange, prefers to be called now,” she explained. “He's my father.”

Surprised looks from the gathered students met Hermione’s explanation. She was just starting to get flustered by the attention when Blaise began to chuckle. She shifted her attention to the dark Italian and raised an eyebrow in question. He just reached up onto the mantle to retrieve a bottle and began filling glasses handed to him by Draco. Soon the entire group had glasses of firewhiskey, even the visiting Gryffindors, and was watching Blaise expectantly as he raised his towards her in toast.

“My dear Hermione, I think you have made it a red letter day for the Slytherins. Not only did the smartest witch in the class join us, but she’s the daughter of two males, both from Slytherin families, and she has, in the same night, demolished one of Hogwarts greatest myths.” Blaise smirked at her around the glass. Hermione just knew he was up to something with this stunt. “To Hermione, everyone!”

“To Hermione,” Neville echoed with a smile. He tilted his glass toward the girl in question before sipping from it to cover his urge to laugh when Hermione blushed.

“And you, Ginny?” Harry asked to distract everyone from Hermione’s blushes. “Why are you here?”

Ginny settled a bit more comfortably on the floor while she considered Harry for a long moment before answering him. She tossed back the last of the firewhiskey in her glass and handed it up to Blaise. "I'm with Neville. He explained his opinion about you and Hermione a while back. And it certainly makes more sense than Ron's.” Ginny shrugged and looked at the original members of Slytherin house. “By Slytherin standards, we Weasleys are one step up from Muggleborns, but I don't throw away my friends over a House.”

“Ron will come around. He always does what is right in the end. It just takes him a little longer to think it through but once he does,” Harry trailed off trying to think of a phrase the purebloods in the room would understand. He failed miserably and he knew it. “He comes down like a ton of bricks.”

“What?”

“Muggle saying, Malfoy,” Hermione answered as she gave Harry a significant look.

“Right, then.” Harry clapped his hands together. “Sleeping arrangements. I hope you're all not too put out but Hermione and I are going to share a room…”

Pansy sucked in a shocked breath. “That's... but...” she trailed off and looked helplessly at Draco to explain.

"It's not done, Potter,” Draco picked up for his cousin. “Only betrothed couples are allowed to share quarters.”

“With all due respect to your customs, gentlemen and lady, I'm not stupid enough to think that you have all forgiven me who I am and what I’m supposed to do,” Harry explained calmly. “Or Hermione's part in several recent events. Voldemort would give a great deal to have Hermione's and mine's heads on a platter. So, Hermione and I stay together unless...”

Blaise nodded. He finished his drink and put the glass on the mantle beside him. “He has a point,” he said to Draco before the blonde could work himself up into a snit. “However, Slytherin house’s membership has greatly declined in recent years. Most of the upper years have private rooms now.”

“No,” Harry said. He shook his head for emphasis. “That would make us vulnerable to attack.”

“All right, Potter, I know what you want,” Pansy smiled indulgently. It seemed someone had been reading the old etiquette books. “I will stay with Lestrange. My family's word she will be safe.”

“Literally that,” Neville interrupted. “Since she's your second cousin.”

“And now you see Harry in his Slytherin Glory,” Ginny added with a soft chuckle.

“Just making sure we're safe, Gin,” Harry snarked back to her.

“So who will give his family's word for you, Potter?” Blaise interjected.

“I will,” Malfoy interjected before anyone else could even say a word. He shared a look with Blaise before addressing the Gryffindors. “Potter’s a cousin on my mother's side. So is Grang... Lestrange.”

“Malfoy, that can get you in serious trouble with your father,” Neville said. He couldn’t believe the shifting dynamics going on in front of him. It didn’t make sense and certainly didn’t fit with the image of Slytherin house as all evil, self-centered gits.

“With Potter now in Slytherin, he'll want me to cultivate a friendship with him.”

“Politics,” Neville replied. He waved his hand in front of him. “Pfft.” He glanced down at Ginny on the floor. “We need to get back, Ginny, before people realize we’re gone.”

“You’re a fool if you think they haven’t,” Blaise told them as they rose from the floor.

“That's all right.” Ginny giggled merrily. “I'll make sure to kiss Neville right before we go into the common room. He'll get red as a beet and everyone will think we've been snogging away in the library or something.”

“Ginny!”

Harry laughed which set off Hermione as she too rose to her feet. “Good for you, Ginny,” Harry said. “Be careful, though. There are Gryffindors who don't like the idea of your friendship with...” he paused for a moment, glanced at the small group around him and decided what the hell. “Us.”

“Pfft...” Like Neville before her, Ginny waved her hand and brushed off the complaint. “I have seven older brothers, I can handle them. See you at breakfast?"

“Yes,” Harry replied. “I have Defense first thing in the morning. I have a feeling I'll need the strength.”

“Harry!” Hermione all but screeched. She was shocked that he would think her fathers would harm him.

“I think your dads are going to make it hard on us, Hermione. On purpose. After what I saw in the dining room tonight, I have a feeling we have a lot to unlearn.”

“Aw, hell,” Hermione moaned after a moment’s thought. She thought back to the events in the great hall. One phrase, said separately by both of the men, echoed in her mind. “Dad's going to treat us like new field agents. We're doomed.”

“New field agents?” Pansy questioned. “What does that mean?”

Hermione considered for a moment, debating the official secrets act, before she finally shrugged. Considering the Wizarding World’s statute of secrecy, she was fairly certain she could tell them a bit. “Both my parents work for Torchwood,” she started. At the other’s blank looks, she explained a bit more. “They're kind of like specialized aurors based in Cardiff. It means there will be a hell of a lot of work and neither of them will accept excuses for failure.”

“What can they do to us?” Malfoy asked with a disdainful sniff.

Hermione looked over at Pansy in question. She smiled when the other girl rose and pointed toward a nearby tunnel leading out from the common room. “You'll be surprised, Malfoy. You’ll want your rest; you're going to need it.”

Malfoy sneered at her. There was nothing that anyone could do to make him regret things. He was too good a student, too good a Quidditch player. “Good night, Mud...” he broke off abruptly. “Oh crap. I can't even call you that now, can I?”

Hermione laughed gaily from where she was walking beside Pansy toward what would be her new room. “Nope, but I'll let you,” she said. “If you stop calling me Mudblood, I'll wonder what's wrong with you.”

“Just remember, Malfoy, the Black Tapestry says the Lestranges were aristocracy when the Malfoys were still French _parvenus_.” Harry chuckled at Malfoy’s affronted look. “Now, where am I supposed to sleep?”

Malfoy glared at Harry for a very long moment and then shook his head. “This way, Potter.” He started off down the same hall the girls had toward his room. “You’ve changed,” he said softly. “Both of you have.”

“No, Draco,” Harry said quietly. “You just saw us differently before. That's ok. We did the same thing to you.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the change in address from his last name to his first. It wasn’t the usual method of granting friendship and familiarity that went with such things, but he wasn’t going to quibble. It was clear that Harry had no idea exactly how things worked in the circles he now moved in. He could make allowances even as he taught the other man how things should go. “Well, Harry, it is a surprise,” he said. He pointed out doors as they moved down the hall. “We just passed Crabbe and Goyle’s room. They’re closest to the common room. Blaise is across the hall there.” Draco paused outside the door to his room and pointed to the door at the very end of the short hallway. “Pansy and Hermione are there in the prefect’s suite. Until Hermione joined us, there weren’t any other girls in the fifth year.” He opened the door before him and waved Harry inside. “And we’re here.” He waited for the younger man to enter before continuing with a smirk, “I hope you don't mind, but I sleep in the nude.”

Harry looked back over his shoulder at Draco. He gave the blonde a long considering look. “I’ll survive,” he murmured with a smirk while putting aside all his questions about the fact that the Slytherin fifth year class was so small. Those could be asked another time or he’d have Hermione look up the answers in the library. He was certain the Slytherins in his class were far greater in number when they’d left at the end of fourth year. “You’re infinitely better looking than Ron.”

*** CHAPTER SEVEN ***

Ianto leant against the staircase which led from their classroom up to their office and personal quarters beyond it. He handed a mug of coffee off to Jack before sipping at his own. He stared out across the cluttered mess that was their classroom and somehow managed to bury his urge to clean and organize the space. They didn’t have the time, though that didn’t mean he wouldn’t set the house elves to work later after classes. This room was a disgrace. He smiled at Jack over the rim of his mug. His lover was sprawled in the desk chair, his booted feet propped on a corner of the desk as he stared right back at him. “I think we should treat them as new field agents,” Ianto said softly. “We need to get them to think outside their houses.”

“Damned labels,” Jack muttered. He nodded to Ianto and went back to his coffee.

“We need to make some preliminary decisions,” Ianto continued. “Check our thoughts against those files you found last night.”

“At least that teacher had sense,” Jack retorted. “Damned shame we can’t switch these classes up to be more than just two houses at a time.”

“One step at a time, Jack,” Ianto said. He finished off his coffee and set the mug aside. “Let’s see what this first bunch has to offer.”

“Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years,” Jack mused. “Well, at least we get to see Hermione first thing.” He thought for a moment. “That blonde kid. He’s one of them, isn’t he?”

“Hermione won’t appreciate it if we favor her just because she’s our daughter,” Ianto snapped. He smothered the urge to smile at Jack’s frowning look. If anything they’d be expecting more from her in this class and they both knew it. “Draco Malfoy,” he acknowledged. “He’s the ‘Prince of Slytherin’ or so the notes I looked at said. Everyone expects him to eventually take his father’s place at Voldemort’s right hand. Why?”

“There’s something about him,” Jack said quietly. “Reminds me of me when I was much younger and much stupider. Maybe if someone throws him a lifeline he can escape.”

"Malfoys, like the Lestranges, are considered one of the darkest families in this society.” Ianto stared intently at Jack. “Do you really think he could change?"

"Don't know,” Jack replied. He shrugged and finished off his coffee. “But I'd like to give him the chance."

Ianto hummed his agreement. “Well, here's your starting point. How do you want to play this, Jack?” He considered his lover for a moment and smirked. “Aside from you looking like Lockhart."

"If you're going to start the day by insulting me, I'm leaving!"

"Well, the sprawl behind the desk does remind me of one of those portraits we found. Thank Merlin for banishing charms.” Ianto crossed the few feet that separated him from Jack and bent down to briefly kiss the older man. “I meant do I get to play the 'strict but fair' teacher while you're the approachable one?"

“It’s worked for us before, so yeah.” Jack’s lips twisted in his own unique variant of the considering smirk. “Besides, I’m the unknown quantity. I’m a Parkinson nobody has ever heard of. Even the other Parkinsons.”

“That’s probably driven Pansy Parkinson completely round the bend.”

“Unless something’s changed in the last century, she comes from sturdy stock. She’ll bounce back.” Jack leant back further and clasped his hands behind his head. “You’re right when you said we should treat them like new recruits. So, I think we should start by evaluating their physical condition.”

“They are so going to hate us.” Ianto smirked. He wouldn’t mind being justifiably hated. It was blind hate for no reason which upset him. “Laps around the castle? Or shall we do crunches, pull-ups and the like here?”

“That Quidditch thing,” Jack asked. “Where do they play and is it unisex?”

“Except for Slytherin House, at least when I was a student, it was unisex.” Ianto tilted his head to one side thinking for a moment. “There’s a pitch just beyond the greenhouses.”

“Ok,” Jack said. “Can we get sweats for everyone?”

“Easily.” Ianto smiled. “Just ask the house elves.”

Jack shook his head a bit, but raised his voice and addressed the empty classroom. “Elves! Exercise clothes for everyone!”

Ianto rolled his eyes and sighed. “Jack, you need to be more specific.” He considered the request for a moment and then nodded. “Mipsy?” He waited for a moment for the elf in question to appear before him. “I need exercise clothing, preferably muggle-style sweat suits, for all of the upcoming fifth year class in their sizes and labeled for the students placed in the Quidditch locker rooms.” He waited for her to pop back out before turning to Jack with a grin. “That’s how you do it.”

“So from now on, I’ll just let you give the orders,” Jack retorted. “Now all we need are the students.”

Ianto chuckled, leant over and kissed Jack again. “They’re outside the door waiting for us to open it.”

“No initiative in any of them. You’d think our daughter would have at least knocked.” Jack dropped his feet from the desk and rose. “So, let’s take them down to the exercise yard instead. Surprise is our ally.”

Ianto smirked, waved a hand toward the door, and let Jack lead the way through the classroom. Reaching the door, he whistled for Myfanwy to join them as Jack flung the door open. He barely managed to maintain his blank expression as Jack ignored the students questions, just strode through the group with a tossed off, “Follow us, folks.”

Ianto, with Myfanwy perched on his shoulder grooming his hair, headed off in Jack’s wake. He made a couple of notes on his PDA as he subtly guided the Captain through the halls toward the Quidditch pitch. It was taking all his willpower to not laugh at the students as they whispered questions to each other in their wake. It wasn’t until they actually walked through the stands onto the pitch itself that the group fell silent. Ianto turned about on his heel, glared at the students, and started issuing orders. “You’ll find suitable clothing, labeled with your names, in the Quidditch locker room.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his ever present stopwatch. “You have five minutes to change into the clothing left for you, put your current clothing and school bags in a locker and return to this spot. Ten points will be taken from each house for every student that is late.” He held up the watch, clicked it and smirked. “Time starts now.”

“You’re evil,” Jack murmured to Ianto as he watched the students head off in the direction of the locker rooms. “Pure evil.”

“You told me to play the ‘bad teacher’,” Ianto reminded Jack. He smirked just a bit and reached up to nudge Myfanwy off his shoulder. He tossed her up into the air and leant his head back to watch as she soared upwards regaining her more familiar size and shape as she gained height above them. “This way you have the chance to reward the students for little moments of cooperation thereby cementing your position as the ‘good teacher’.”

Jack chuckled, nodding, and then turned to lean back against the side of the Quidditch pitch. “She looks good,” he murmured, nodding to Myfanwy circling above the pitch. “We should let her out more.”

“No place we safely can,” Ianto replied. “I wish we could, too.”

“Don’t you have a spell or something; make it so people don’t notice her?”

“Disillusionment charm, I think,” Ianto replied. “I’ll look it up.” He drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and schooled his expression back into its blank mask. “Here they come,” he said quietly. “No surprise the Slytherins are here first. I think Hermione drove them out here.”

The two men watched the first of the returning students head their way. Hermione, no surprise, lead the way with Harry just a few steps behind her. Draco Malfoy flanked their daughter on the other side. What surprised both men was the large number of boys wearing pink sweats; however, only one of the boys had any initiative to attempt to change the color of their clothing. As he walked, Draco pulled out his wand and turned his clothes a nice rich black. If it wasn’t for the situation, Ianto would award points for the ease and completeness of young Malfoy’s charm work.

Ianto tugged out his own wand and flicked it toward Draco. “Everyone the same, Mr. Malfoy,” he explained. “It stops people from getting delusions of grandeur.

“I am not wearing pink!” Malfoy snapped back. He crossed his arms over his chest and all but pouted at Ianto.

Ianto scanned the gathered students, mentally noting the stragglers, though none actually broke his five minute time limit. It was strange to see nearly all of the male students in soft pink outfits, save for Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom who were both in navy blue. Of the girls, Hermione and Pansy Parkinson where in a soft jade green while the rest, save for one blonde Gryffindor in lavender, were in a garish shade of red. Laughing, Ianto waved his wand over the crowd of students turning everyone’s sweats a standard medium gray save for their house patches. “Is that better, Mr. Malfoy?”

Malfoy looked down at himself, nodded, and looked back up with a smile. “Much,” he said. “Thank you, Professor.”

“All right everyone,” Jack called. Once he had their attention, he nodded to the pitch. “Fast run around the perimeter. We’ll tell you when to stop.”

Wails of disbelief came from the students. Even Hermione was staring at them with surprise in her eyes. Ianto smirked. He took a step forward and gave them all a glare. “It wasn’t a suggestion,” he snapped. “It was an order. Start running or I start deducting points.”

*** CHAPTER EIGHT ***

Hermione stared at her fathers for a moment. Jack titled his head just a bit and winked at her. Then she knew she’d been right the night before. The men were going to make them learn what they needed to learn the hard way. She glanced at Ianto, back at Jack, and finally looked over at Harry. “Come’n, Harry,” she ordered as she started off around the edge of the pitch at a steady jog.

“All right, Mudblood,” Draco said. He started running alongside her. At least she set a decent pace that wouldn’t be too tiring too fast. He hoped. He didn’t do a lot of running. It was beneath purebloods to do so but he did for Quidditch as it made him a better seeker. “What’s going on?”

“I told you, Draco,” Hermione replied easily. “We’re being trained.”

“Trained? Like what?”

“Like fighters,” she said. “Like people who are planning to survive a war.” Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the other students and shook her head. “Look, both my fathers have survived things we’d never manage. Harry, you heard about the terrorist attack on Canary Wharf two years ago, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded as he ran. He cast a glance to one side and grinned a welcome at Neville coming up to join the group. “Uncle Vernon said they deserved it.”

Hermione snarled a curse. “Remind me to hex your uncle if I ever meet him.” She pointed across the pitch toward where Jack and Ianto stood watching the students run. “Ianto survived that attack. He lost all his friends and coworkers in it. He also lost his then fiancée.” She dropped her hand and kept running. “Dad says that of the twenty-seven people who survived that attack, ten of them owe their lives to Ianto. He kept his head, got them out, and then went back to attempt to find his fiancée. He found her just in time to see her killed by the terrorists.”

“How do you know that, ‘Mione,” Harry asked. “I know you haven’t talked to either of them since your rather dramatic arrival this summer.”

She snorted a laugh. “I asked Dad why Ianto was so quiet on a particular day just after I arrived for my visit. So he told me the story. I’d arrived just before the anniversary of the attack, so Ianto was a bit depressed.” She shook her head slightly. “A few days after that, it was like seeing a different man. He was still quiet and unassuming, but not depressed anymore.”

As they ran, the fifth year Slytherins, plus one lone Gryffindor, continued to talk to each other. The conversation ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. It was a strangely formal interrogation which quickly became friendly. Soon they knew the most embarrassing stories about each other in the way only good friends did. Like the fact that Neville’s ability to keep up with them on their jog was because he’d spent the past five years running away from hexes, even from his own housemates, to Draco’s hatred of his middle name, Peregrine. They were well on their way to a surprising friendship, one not seen in Hogwarts since before the Grindelwald wars. They lapped their slower moving classmates. Neville laughing as he realized some were being hit with stinging hexes to get them moving faster. It was clear their new teachers weren’t going to be easy on them. Not like previous years. They’d have to work for their grades this time around.

“How many of you want to graduate?” Professor Harkness called out across the pitch.

“We all do!” Draco and Harry yelled back at him without slowing their pace.

“Then you better get moving,” the Professor yelled. “Or I’ll take great pleasure in failing you.”

Hermione, as they passed the teachers for the second time, called over to them, “How many laps, sir?”

“We’ll let you know,” Professor Jones yelled back.

“Yes, sir,” Draco replied, shaking sweaty hair from his eyes. He glanced over at Hermione and laughed. “I can be polite, Mudblood.”

“Then why do you still call her that?” Harry snapped.

“She told me if I didn’t,” Draco began with a smug smirk. “She’d think there was something wrong with me. Remember?”

“Oh, right,” Harry chuckled. “How you doing there, Nev?”

“Not too bad. Not as hard as outrunning Slytherins on the stairs,” Neville replied. He glanced over at the girl on his other side. “How about you, Pans?”

“My name is Pansy,” she growled. “I am getting a bit tired.”

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Jones called. “Come to the center of the field. Once you’re here, find a partner.”

“What now?” Pansy demanded. She was bent over, hands resting on her knees, panting as she stood there glaring at Ianto.

“Now we continue the exercises,” Professor Jones continued. As the group of students stood or sat about the center of the field, Professor Harkness took over the instruction.

“This exercise is called push hands,” the Professor began. “Stand facing each other, palms touching. The goal is to push the other person off balance by simply using pressure. Alternate hands… go!”

Hermione, who’d been quickly claimed as partner by Pansy, shrugged at the other Slytherin girl before she could even question the exercise. “No, I have no idea why they are having us do this,” she said. Hermione braced herself and began the exercise, nodding as Professor Jones wandered by to give a few pointers on their actions. She was distracted just enough by his walk by that Pansy got the drop on her, pushing hard and causing her to step back to catch her balance.

“Yes!” Pansy squealed. She grinned for a moment, all but bouncing in place, before she recovered herself enough to resume the expected Slytherin mask. Even so a faint blush showed her embarrassment at shouting her victory.

“Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Parkinson,” Professor Jones murmured. “You’ve done it once, but once is not enough. Do it again.”

As the students attempted to push each other out of balance, they rapidly discovered that what seemed a simple exercise required both concentration and effort. Strength was not enough; brute force was counterproductive. As they reached the point where they thought they couldn’t go on, Professor Harkness called a halt and asked for their attention.

“Now, instead of palms touching, place the back of your hand on the opposite wrist of your partner,” Professor Harkness instructed. “Ianto and I will demonstrate the exercise before asking you to do it.”

The students gathered in a loose semi-circle as Ianto laid aside his notebook and pen on the grass. The professors bowed to each other, braced their legs and assumed the position described. Professor Jones smirked just a bit as they started a gentle circling motion while maintaining contact between their hands. After the third repetition, the two men began to speed up their pattern, hands touching then separating as they worked to knock each other of balance. The students could do nothing but stare at their teachers, jaws hanging open, as the two men went from a stationary pattern to a moving one. Finally, Professor Harkness managed to knock Professor Jones off balance enough to stumble out of the pattern. The two professors smiled then bowed to each other before turning to the students.

“As you’ve just seen, hand to hand fighting is all about balance and opportunity,” Professor Harkness explained. “You cannot rely on your wand alone. You must learn to fight in other ways as well.”

“No way!” The interruption came from the bunched together Gryffindors. Ron Weasley stepped out of the group, glaring at the professors, and snapped, “You can’t get close enough. A wizard can stop you long before you get close enough to hit him.”

“Really, Mr. Weasley?” Professor Harkness purred. There was something his voice which had every other student not wanting to get noticed by him. “Let’s try it.” The professor gestured Ron closer to him. “Zap me before I get you.”

Ron pulled out his wand and prepared a spell, but the professor was already in motion. As he moved, he shouted Ron’s name. The shout distracted Ron which allowed Professor Harkness to drop into a roll beneath his arm and kick his feet out from under him. The professor then stood there waiting for Ron’s response while the other students just stared in shock at the scene.

“Hey!” Ron protested. He scrambled up to his feet, took a step toward Professor Harkness, and shouted right into his face. “That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t ready!”

“Life’s not fair, Mr. Weasley,” Professor Jones interjected. “In a combat situation, the enemy doesn’t wait for you to be ready.”

“Graveyards are full of people who tried to get ready while someone was shooting at them,” Professor Harkness added. Sarcasm, mostly lost on the ticked off Gryffindors, dripped from his voice. “When we’re through with you, you won’t be one of them.” Professor Harkness scanned the gathered students. “Now, push hands for twenty minutes.”

The students paired off again. Pansy with Hermione, who turned out to be a nearly evenly matched pair, Blaise with a somewhat startled Neville, and Harry paired off with Draco. They went to work, and it was truly _work_ , while both professors wandered amongst the students giving tips, praise and occasional corrections to their forms.

“I think I preferred the running,” Harry bitched to Draco as they slowly practiced the circling motions of the exercise.

“You would, Potter,” Draco retorted. “Want to speed this up, like they did, maybe that would make it interesting for you?”

“Hell, no,” Harry replied with a grin. “You’ve nearly caught me three times already.”

Still both students were more than ready, along with their friends, for the moment that Professor Jones called a halt to the proceedings. That simple seeming exercise was exhausting.

“This will be your morning routine whether you have class with us or not,” Professor Jones explained. “Four laps around the pitch and twenty minutes of push hands before breakfast or no passing grades. Understood?”

“Wha…?” Ron’s shout led off the chorus of protest from the students. The loudest protests came from the pureblood girls who seemed to think that being female meant they didn’t have to exercise at all.

Hermione just shook her head in response to it. She knew her Dad. Protest too much and he’d double the exercise. She made a few mental notes, already working up a schedule for herself, Harry and the rest of the Slytherins to use for the term.

All the protesters fell silent when there was an ungodly shriek from right overhead followed by the swoop of a low flying animal. All the students, at least those who hadn’t dived right onto the grass, stared upward in shock.

“Meet your exercise prefect,” Professor Jones said. There was smug pleasure in his voice.

“What is that?” Neville gasped out as he rose to his feet. He tilted his head back to stare at the creature swooping and diving over them.

“That is a pteranodon, Mr. Longbottom,” Professor Jones replied. “My familiar.”

“Oh.” Neville couldn’t decide if he was disturbed by this news or not.

“If you aren’t here, she will come looking for you at breakfast,” Professor Jones continued. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the class chorused their agreement. Most were still staring upward at the large dinosaur.

“You have twenty minutes to shower, change clothes, and get back to the classroom for the remainder of this morning’s lesson,” Professor Harkness took over the instruction. “For each minute you’re late, you will lose five points.” The professor shook his head at the students just standing about staring. “You’re wasting time. Move!”

*** CHAPTER NINE ***

“What do you think so far?”

“What do I think?” Jack echoed Ianto’s question as he followed his lover across the dais to their seats at the head table. “I think they should all be taken out and shot. What in the hell were these people thinking? _Were_ they thinking?” He grabbed his chair, pulled it out, and dropped down into it. “I have never seen such an ill-prepared, illiterate group of students in my life. What in the hell are they teaching here?”

“Magic,” Ianto replied. He settled in his own chair with a sigh. “That’s all. Just magic. Looking at it from this side of the equation, I’m starting to understand why Professor Snape refers to the students as ‘dunderheads’.”

“They can’t write beyond Infant School level. Their reading comprehension sucks.” Jack growled softly and reached for the dishes on the table to serve himself lunch. “How in the hell did you manage to graduate Oxford? Much less start working for Torchwood London?”

“The Joneses,” Ianto replied. He magicked them up some coffee, handed Jack his mug, and sipped at his own. “Mam was a teacher. When they took me in, she insisted on getting my knowledge up to the same level as her daughter’s even if Rhiannon is five years my senior. Tad was just as determined. ‘You might be a wizard, but you can’t make a living off of magic. You need a proper education.’” Ianto shook his head and set his coffee aside. “I know what you mean, though. It’s a sad state of affairs when our three year old has better comprehension of some things than the Hogwarts first years.”

“And we can’t do a damned thing to fix it,” Jack groused. He ate a bit, sighed, and leant back in his chair. “Make a note somewhere for us to check on Hermione’s standard of education with regard to the National Curriculum.”

“Speaking of Hermione,” Ianto replied even as he made a note of Jack’s request. “I’d like to arrange to see her this evening. You still owe her and I an explanation of how she’s my daughter and only eight years younger than me.”

“We do need to discuss that,” Jack conceded the point to Ianto. He settled in for the meal. Periodically, he checked his watch or scanned the students trickling in below the high table. He was getting concerned as to where the other two members of the team were. They should have been here by now even if they stopped off someplace for a meal on the drive.

A commotion from the main hallway outside the great hall pulled both men’s attention from the meal to the doors. They looked at each other before rising to their feet. Both men shifted their coats for easy access to their guns but the first words to drift through the open door had them relaxing minutely.

“Didn’t they tell you?” Owen’s snarkiest tones drifted in from the hall outside. “We’re the new faculty.”

“Neither of you look anything like the ‘scariest woman I would ever meet’.” Snape’s voice dripped sarcasm as he replied to the Torchwood medic.

“That’s what they say right before I bury them.” Tosh’s deceptively sweet voice replied before Owen could start a battle of snark between him and the potions master. “Just get in my way once and we'll discuss it once. There won’t be a second time. Now, we're looking for Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones. They are expecting us."

"Assuming you are correct and do belong here, why don't you find them yourself?"

“That way,” Tosh’s voice carried clearly. “Come on, Owen. The floor plans I saw show that area as the dining room and I’m starving.”

“You’re not the only one,” Owen’s answer was just as clear as Tosh’s directions. “And I need real coffee.”

"There are no floor plans to Hogwarts,” Snape snarled.

“Hogwarts: A History,” Tosh explained. “A special self-updating edition presented to Her Majesty Queen Victoria on her coronation.” She smiled deceptively sweetly. “I went to University with the Windsor Castle librarian.”

“You are scary sometimes,” Owen interjected into the conversation. “And there’s the boss.” A wide grin settled on Owen’s face as he spied the much missed teaboy next to the Captain. “Ianto! Coffee?”

“Of course, Owen,” Ianto replied with a grin. “Tosh, did you have a good trip?”

“Daddy!” Mica screeched from her position on Owen’s hip. She squirmed until Owen put her down where upon she started running through the watching students in order to get to her fathers. “Tad!”

“Nice to see you two. We need to talk,” Jack said as he bent down to pick up the toddler. “Hello, poppet, were you good for Auntie Gwen?” He kissed his stepdaughter on the cheek and handed her across to Ianto.

“Hello, Mica, love,” Ianto greeted the little girl with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh, huh!”

Ianto shifted his daughter onto one hip, passed the coffee he’d summoned over to Owen, and took a few steps back to the table. “Let’s get you something to eat. Then you can help me feed Myfanwy.”

“Pardon me,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted before Ianto could resume his seat at the table. “I just wanted to welcome the newcomers, but I have to ask, how were you able to locate Hogwarts seeing as we are unplottable?”

“Well, I needed to make a few minor modifications to the GPS unit, but once I had the coordinates it was no trouble at all,” Tosh replied. She glanced at the table and at Ianto’s nod, settled in a chair by Professor McGonagall, in order to have some lunch.

“Good job, Toshiko,” Jack praised. He leant over and kissed her cheek. “Knew you could do it.” He looked at the original staff of Hogwarts and grinned. “Staff, these are our other two teachers, Toshiko Sato and Doctor Owen Harper. Doctor Harper will be teaching first aid and field triage while Toshiko covers everything else.”

“Everything else?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Jack nodded. He edged a bit toward the doors. “Research skills, catch up reading, writing, and basic maths, how to tweak just about anything to get it to do the job you want it to rather than what it was made to do.” He grinned widely. “Maybe I’ll even let her teach Snape there how to make gunpowder and nitroglycerin.”

“Go see what Owen brought you, Jack,” Ianto said. He sighed softly. Sometimes Jack was more of a child then their toddler. He settled Mica in his lap to eat while he talked to the other professors. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Thanks, Ianto!” Jack grinned happily and bounded off.

“We brought a bit of everything,” Tosh said. She shook her head while getting herself some lunch. “He’ll be busy for a bit.”

“Good,” Professor McGonagall said. She watched as the school healer tugged Doctor Harper down beside her to begin an interrogation of her own. She seated herself between Tosh and Ianto. “That will give us some time to get to know you. Tell me, Professor Sato, what is your field of study?”

“I have doctorates in engineering, telecommunications and information systems,” Tosh replied. She managed to hide her smile at the professor’s confusion behind a quick sip of Ianto’s famous coffee.

“Tosh does a bit of everything but specializes in computers and communications,” Ianto expanded on Tosh’s statement.

Tosh, seeing that Professor McGonagall was still a bit lost, took pity on her. “I’m a very specialized sort of librarian. My job is to find answers to questions Jack asks.”

“And just what sort of questions does Captain Harkness ask?”

“Don’t answer that, Tosh,” Ianto interjected. He thought for a moment and smiled. “On second thought, tell her some of the more mundane questions.”

“Play nice, Ianto,” Tosh said with a smile. She turned to Professor McGonagall. “I don’t know if you would believe me.” She paused and thought for a few minutes and then waved her hand at the room beyond the high table. “This is a good example. All I got was the name of the place and a request to join them here today.” She leaned over a bit toward the professor. “I think Jack wanted to see how far I could get on my own. Once I found out what Hogwarts was, it wasn’t difficult to figure out the rest.”

“From what little I know of Captain Harkness,” Professor McGonagall began. “I can see him doing that to you as a test.”

“Oh, it was more than that I think,” Tosh replied. “He wanted to test your defenses. I’m afraid they’re not very good from our point of view.”

“Not very good,” Owen interrupted from the other side of Tosh. “Try nonexistent. An army could get in here before you’d notice them.”

“Owen!” Tosh snapped. “Behave. We’re guests here.” She looked back at Professor McGonagall again. “But he’s right, you need an overhaul.”

“The castle is well warded,” Professor McGonagall retorted. “No one with ill intent could get inside.”

“No one magical perhaps.” Tosh shook her head. “But your wards don’t protect against anything else.”

“There’s an anti-muggle ward. You shouldn’t have found us.”

“Your anti-muggle wards repel someone who just stumbles onto you,” Tosh explained. “I went looking for you and found you. Mind you, I’m not saying just anyone could do it. But if I could, there are others who can.”

“Anyone with the proper determination and sufficient time can find you, I’m afraid,” Ianto continued with a smile. “Tosh just happened to be very motivated to find you fast.”

“But why would muggles try to find us?” Dumbledore asked as he joined the table.

“Any number of reasons really,” Ianto answered after a moment’s thought. “Just to find out what that blank spot is on the map is, for one. Or a reward. Voldemort could hire mercenaries to attack the castle. Without innate magic, they’d _need_ to find the place. They’d go about it the same way as Tosh did.” Ianto watched the older man carefully. He looked as if he’d swallowed the nastiest of potions. McGonagall, on the other hand, seemed curious about their observations.

“But surely this is about controlling the Wizarding World,” she said finally.

“The Wizarding World is having an internal battle over whether to move forward into the modern world or stay hidebound by rules written in a very different time,” Ianto replied. “You have been lucky that Voldemort hates muggles so much that he doesn’t think of using them in any way.” He stroked his daughter’s hair for a moment before finishing his thoughts. “But if he ever makes that leap, we’re all in a lot of trouble.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” Jack interjected. “To keep you from being in trouble.”

“Why, Captain Harkness?” McGonagall asked. “You have amply demonstrated what you think of us. Why do you want to help us?

Jack rested one foot on the dais, draped his arm over his upraised leg and considered her for a long moment before sighing softly. “I don’t think children should be expected to fight a war for their elders,” he said finally. “A long time ago, I made a promise to someone. I intend on keeping it.” He glanced over at Ianto and nodded to his lover. “Plus, both my fiancé and my daughters are a part of this world, there must be something worth saving if it produced them.”

“Thank you, Captain Harkness,” McGonagall said after a moment. She gave him a brief nod and the barest hint of an approving smile.

Jack returned the nod with a barely there smile of his own. “You’re welcome, Professor.” He shifted his attention to Ianto and smiled more widely at his lover. He straightened up, circled the table and settled in a chair by Ianto. He reached over and took Mica out of Ianto’s lap. “Here, let me,” he murmured. “You need to eat, too.”

*** CHAPTER TEN ***

Hermione chatted eagerly with Draco as they descended into the dungeon for potions class. They were both the best students in this particular subject, able to spout off from memory the recipes and possible substitutions for many of the more common potions. Arriving at the classroom, they headed inside, picking seats. Hermione settled next to Neville, as she often did, while Harry joined Draco. Behind their tables, Blaise took a seat with Pansy. In front of them, Ron partnered with both Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patil.

Hermione glanced at the slate board at the front of the room, then over at Snape who leant on his lectern with his arms crossed before turning to Neville. “I’ll get the ingredients while you get the cauldron and supplies?” she asked. At his nod, she smiled and headed off. Ducking into the supply cupboard, she quickly picked through the vials of ingredients. Ginger root, armadillo bile, scarab beetles, a large bottle of water were checked, approved of and cradled in the crook of her arm to carry them back to the table. She lined up the vials, in order of use, at the front of the desk and nodded to Neville as he set up the cauldron over the brazier.

Hermione handed Neville the water to add to the cauldron while she prepared the remaining ingredients so they’d be ready to add when the time came. She’d just finished slicing the second batch of ginger root when her mobile softly buzzed in her pocket. Looking over at Snape to find him busy berating Dean and Seamus over their potion, she quickly pulled out the mobile to check the message.

_Dinner tonight? Talk and meeting Mica? Dad x_

Hermione grinned, even though she knew her father couldn’t see it, and quickly typed in a response to the message. _Sure! DADA room? H xx_ She looked up for a moment to check on where Snape was while she waited for a response to her return question. While she waited, she slid the ground scarab beetles over to Neville to add to the potion. The mobile buzzed just as she added the armadillo bile and nodded to Neville to stir the potion. She tugged the mobile back out of her pocket, looked and smiled at the response.

_7 pm. Don’t be late. Dad x_

Hermione tucked the phone away again with a big smile. She took over stirring from Neville and nodded to the last of the ginger root which needed to be added. Neville grabbed it up and began gently dropping the thinly sliced root into the cauldron. Hermione smiled at him, stirring the concoction until it was well-mixed, and tipped the last drops of armadillo bile into the mixture. She considered the mix, as it shimmered from a soft lime green to a disgusting deep yellow-green. She'd no sooner drawn breath to call for Snape when her lungs filled with smoke and she felt her knees give way. She shoved Neville away from the cauldron but couldn't manage to move herself away. Her legs folded and she felt herself losing consciousness.

“Hermione!” Neville braced himself on Blaise and Pansy’s desk in order to catch his balance again. He started back toward her, but was jerked away by Snape instead. “Professor!” he protested.

“Out!” Snape ordered. “All of you get out of here now!”

“But!” Neville protested even as he was shoved toward the door by the professor. He managed to look past the older man to see Harry kneeling beside Hermione. Harry seemed to be checking her pulse and giving orders to Draco and Blaise but Neville couldn’t be certain as the outrush of his fellow Gryffindors both blocked his view and shoved him out into the hallway beyond the classroom door. He considered for a moment, just long enough to get out of the crush of students, before racing off toward the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione’s fathers needed to know about this incident.

Neville ran through the corridors, jumping up the stairs, and pelting down the upper halls until he reached the door to the defense classroom. He knocked once, hard, even as he shoved the door open. “Professors!” he yelled before he realized all four of the new teachers were seated right in front of him and looking expectantly at him. “Something happened in potions. Hermione’s collapsed. Harry and Draco are with her but they should be taking her to the infirmary right now.” Neville leant against a nearby desk and panted for a moment as the run up from the dungeons caught up with him. “I thought you should know right away.”

“Fuck!”

The curse came from the new man who’d arrived during lunch. He grabbed a bag and started running for the door. Neville leapt out of his way only to have his shoulder grabbed by the man.

“The infirmary,” he demanded. “Where is it?”

“This way,” Neville replied. He shook off the hand, looked back long enough to see that the defense professors were following them, and took off at a run back through the halls. He led the way to the hospital wing unsurprised when Ginny broke away from her classmates to run alongside him.

“What’s happening, Neville?”

“Hermione was hurt in potions,” Neville replied as he jumped down a flight of stairs. “I went for her parents. Don’t know why the others came, too. Harry and Draco were with her.”

“Good move,” Ginny grinned at him.

“We’re her family,” the new man said. “I’m also her doctor when she’s with us.”

Neville took a moment to look over at the man. “Okay, still don’t know who you are, sir.” He skidded to a halt before the infirmary doors, shoved one open, and waved his followers inside. “This is the infirmary. This whole wing is known as the hospital wing as only the infirmary is in it.”

“Thank you. And I’m Doctor Owen Harper,” Doctor Harper announced as he strode past Neville. “Now, let me get to work here.”

Neville watched as the self-named doctor, the woman and Hermione’s fathers went into the infirmary. He blinked in surprise as he realized the younger one, Professor Jones, was carrying a toddler on his hip. He’d forgotten there was a child with them now. Maybe he should have been more discreet when he’d gone to fetch them. Neville waved Ginny into the infirmary after them. He started to go in himself; however, his attention was captured by the sound of heavy boots pounding up the hallway. Instead, he stepped back to allow the potions professor clear passage into the infirmary rather than be run down by him.

Neville slowly headed into the room in the professor’s wake. He joined his fellow students bunched together to one side of Hermione’s bed. Doctor Harper and Madam Pomfrey were hovering over Hermione working intently on her. As Neville watched, Snape shoved his way closer and handed a vial to Madam Pomfrey.

“The antidote to the poison,” Snape snapped. “Give it to her now.”

“What…?” Doctor Harper questioned. He reached out to stop Madam Pomfrey while he looked at someone to the back of the group. Neville followed the doctor’s line of sight and saw Professor Jones shake his head just a bit. “I want an explanation of this, Ianto,” Doctor Harper said as he released Madam Pomfrey’s hand.

The sound of more running feet took Neville’s attention away from Hermione’s bed to the doors of the infirmary. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall came running in, both demanding answers but being ignored by the medical staff as they worked on Hermione. As soon as Doctor Harper announced that Hermione would be fine, but he was sedating her for a few hours as a precaution, Professor Harkness turned on the other members of the staff. Neville took one look at Professor Harkness and took a step back. He took another step back when he saw the look on Professor Jones’ face as the other man glared past Neville at Professor McGonagall before he turned away to take a seat at Hermione’s bedside.

“I hope someone has an explanation for what has happened to my daughter,” Professor Harkness said. His voice was perfectly controlled, very quiet and very deadly, as he spoke. There was something so threatening in his tone, a promise of instant retribution, which sent a shiver down Neville’s spine. Neville realized in that moment that he _never_ wanted to be on his defense professor’s bad side.

“I’m waiting,” Professor Harkness said, still in those deathly quiet tones. “You can start explaining at anytime.”

*** CHAPTER ELEVEN ***

“The ginger root required for the potion was switched with mandrake,” Snape began. “An elementary mistake, but not one Miss Lestrange would make. She’s too skilled a brewer. Too attentive to her ingredients to confuse those two roots.”

When Snape ceased speaking, Jack stared at the man. He wasn’t certain he appreciated the proprietary way the potions master stared at his teenage daughter. “Go on,” he ordered.

“Rather than creating a wit-sharpening potion,” Snape started up again. “She created a hallucinogenic poison. It sent her into convulsions.”

“And just how did the ingredients get switched, Professor?” Jack asked. He wanted to blame the professor, but with the recent history of the students attacking Hermione, events likely weren’t his fault. Only lack of attention on his part, yet there was no lack of attention as aptly demonstrated by his quick actions to evacuate the students and send Hermione up to the infirmary. Still, Jack wanted to blame someone, anyone, for the potential harm to Hermione. “Well?”

“That I don’t know,” Snape grudgingly acknowledged. “But rest assured, I will find out.” Jack watched the professor look over at the sedated Hermione and clench his jaw before nodding to everyone. “I’ll get right to work on that investigation of my classroom. I will inform you immediately of any findings.”

Jack wanted to say more, demand to know why Professor Snape was looking at Hermione so intently, but before he could do more than open his mouth, Ianto was smoothly interrupting him.

“Thank you, Severus,” Ianto said softly. “Neither Jack nor I will allow her to consider an apprenticeship until she’s at least finished her OWLs, if not her NEWTs.”

“You know me too well,” Snape replied with a slight nod. “I’ll report my findings to you and the Headmaster by dinner.”

With those words, the potions master swept from the infirmary leaving a tense silence in his wake. Jack’s hands clenched by his sides as he struggled with his urge to tear the castle apart to find out who harmed his daughter. He took several deep breaths, endeavoring to stay calm, and turned his attention to Owen. “Owen, report,” he demanded.

“She’ll be fine. Madam Pomfrey and I have both confirmed that,” Owen replied with a smile. He grabbed the chair conjured up by the witch and settled in it. “I gave her a light sedative. I’ll stay…”

“No, I will,” Pansy Parkinson interrupted. She stared hard at the adults. “Some fool breeched my family’s honor by attacking Hermione. I’ll stay with her.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Miss Parkinson,” Ianto soothed. “But I do understand your desire to stay.”

“If Pansy stays, so do I.” Draco folded his arms over his chest and glared at the adults. “Let’s be honest, Professors, it doesn’t matter that Hermione’s now one of us. They’re still going to blame the Slytherins for this and we did _not_ do it!”

“None of you are staying,” Owen interjected. “Jack, get these kids out of here. I’ll stay with her until she wakes before bringing her up to see you two.” He looked at the group and shook his head. “You need to talk to them. I think…”

Jack sighed, bent down and kissed Hermione’s temple. “Keep a close watch, Owen,” Jack ordered as he straightened up. “You armed?”

“Always in uncertain territory,” Owen replied with a grin. “Take Ianto and the kid off. She’s knackered despite a nap in the SUV on the way up.” He jerked his head toward the watching students. “Am I right they’re the reason we’re here? Cause if I am…”

“They are,” Ianto said, handing Mica to Jack as he rose. “And we’re going to give them that talk now. They have some information we need as well in order to plan things out.”

“Then go get it,” Owen snarked. “Go on. Out!”

Jack laughed and waved the students toward the door. “Go on, you lot. She’ll be fine.” He rested his free hand on Ianto’s back as they walked after the students. “Head for the defense classroom and our quarters. We might as well be comfortable for this conversation.”

“Sir?” Harry looked back and stared at the professors.

“What?” Jack answered the question with a question. “And watch where you’re going, Mr. Potter. Or do you want to take a tumble down the stairs?”

“Wha?” Harry whipped about, blushing, and stopped just before the staircase. He shook his head and yelped when Draco smacked him in the back of the head. “Hey!”

“You’re a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor,” Draco snapped. “You need lessons, Harry. Come on, do this right.”

Jack shook his head at the antics going on in front of him. He glanced over at Ianto and saw equal understanding and twitching lips on his lover. He turned back to the students in time to watch Draco start off down the stairs, his student robes sweeping out behind him, with an attitude of ‘I own this place’. It was quite amusing to watch Harry attempt to imitate the young Malfoy’s walk only to trip over the hem of his own robe and be caught by Neville before taking a tumble down the stairs.

“You know what,” Jack said as they reached the landing. “Come here, all of you.”

“Jack,” Ianto half asked, half demanded. “You aren’t going to do what I think you’re going to do are you?”

“Why not? It’ll be quicker and give us more time to talk.”

“I think I’ll walk,” Tosh interjected. She started off down the hall without waiting for an answer. “I’ll meet you there.”

“I’m with her,” Ianto added. He started away after Tosh, but turned back to Jack and the Slytherins with a smile. “Jack’s going to teleport from here to our quarters. The effects rather like a vicious cross between apparating and portkeying.”

“Oh, yuck!” Pansy and Neville chorused before looking at each other in shock. The two students chuckled and jogged over to join Ianto. “I hate portkeying,” Neville griped as he ran.

“So, how about you four?” Jack asked. He gave them a wide grin and waggled his wriststrap in front of them. “Wanna try it?”

“What the hell,” Harry said. “What do I do?”

Jack flipped the cover on the strap open, typed in the coordinates for the sitting room of his and Ianto’s rooms in the castle, and held his arm out between him and Harry. “Put your hand on the strap, but be careful, don’t push any of the buttons.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack looked at the other two Slytherins and raised an eyebrow at them. Before he could say another word, a small female hand was rested on top of Harry’s. He looked over at the redhead and blinked. “I don’t know you yet.”

“Ginny Wealsey,” she replied. “I’m dating Neville which means I get to hang out with this bunch.”

“Ah,” Jack replied. That explained a lot actually. “Boys?”

“As Potter said, what the hell,” the darker of the two, Blaise Zabini if Jack remembered correctly, said. He grabbed Draco’s hand, slapped it on Ginny’s and put his on top. “What now, sir?”

“Now?” Jack grinned again. He covered the kid’s hands with his own and reached around them to press the activation button. “Now we go to our quarters,” he said as the vortex swallowed them up only to spit them out in the middle of the sitting room. He watched the group closely to gauge their reactions to vortex travel. The responses were interesting to say the least. The Potter boy and the Italian both staggered and looked like they wanted to vomit while Draco just dropped to the floor and held his head in his hands, but the girl, she just grinned happily at him.

“That was wicked!” she cried, eliciting groans from the boys. “Tell me we can do it again.”

“Corrupting the students, Jack?” Ianto’s voice came from the doorway. “I’ll have to punish you for that later.” He stepped out of the doorway to wave the rest of the students and Tosh into the room. “Everyone grab a seat,” he said. “I’ll get Mipsy and Libby to bring us some refreshments for our chat.”

*** CHAPTER TWELVE ***

Ianto settled in one of the armchairs in the sitting room and surveyed his and Jack’s guests. Neville was in one armchair with Ginny in his lap while three of the four Slytherins had settled on the sofa. Blaise and Harry were seated on either side of Pansy while Draco settled on the floor with his back against the sofa between Harry’s legs. All of the students had plates of snacks and goblets of drinks near at hand. Ianto smiled up at Jack who leant on the back of his chair and settled Mica a bit more comfortably in his own lap.

“So what did you mean by the comment about blame in the infirmary?” Jack asked. “Why would Slytherin be blamed for Hermione’s accident?” Even as he spoke, he shifted his hand on Ianto’s shoulder, silently telling him to watch the new girl and smiled at Ianto’s subtle nod of acknowledgement.

“Slytherins get blamed for everything that happens to anyone here,” Draco retorted. He shrugged off both Pansy and Harry’s hands and glared over at the adults. “We get punished even when we didn’t do a thing and can prove it. It’s been that way for years. Even when my father was a student, it was like that. Yet the rest of the students especially the damned Gryffindors, no offense Longbottom, can get away with anything even nearly fatal attacks.”

“Any idea why?”

“Because Slytherins are evil,” Ginny recited. “All dark wizards come from Slytherin.”

"Maybe all dark wizards come from Slytherin because you condemn those you dislike and fear to that House,” Jack said. “What if the hat had sorted you into Slytherin and you were treated as they are? What would you do to strike back?"

"Ginny, the hat wanted to sort me into Slytherin,” Harry added. “It only put me in Gryffindor because I begged. Does that mean I'm evil inside?"

“But…?” Ginny protested. “Everyone knows that all evil wizards come from Slytherin.”

“I was a Gryffindor once,” Ianto added. “And they forced me into Slytherin once they knew my bloodline. The same thing they did to Hermione.” He shook his head with a soft sigh. “I was the same person afterwards, but much more bitter.”

“Oh,” Ginny said meekly. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but all the recent dark wizards are from Slytherin House. Tom Riddle and the Lestranges are Slytherins. So are all the Blacks.”

“Sirius wasn’t,” Harry protested. He leant forward to stare at the youngest Weasley. “Evil doesn't come from a family or a house, Gin. It comes from inside. You always tease me about being the Glory of Slytherin, but don't you see that means I have it in me to be evil? I think we all do, really. It's that we make the choice not to be that matters.”

“What about them?” she asked waving a hand at the grouped Slytherins. “Aren’t they going to be dark wizards? Just look at their parents.”

“Ginny...” Neville shifted her about to look at him. “Nobody has ever been given a choice, don't you see? We label ourselves and we are forced into the molds from the beginning. Is that what you mean, sir? When you complain about ‘labels’?”

“Exactly!” Jack grinned at Neville. “And it's been going on for thousands of years. Talk about self-fulfilling prophecies!”

Ianto laughed softly, loosening his hold on Mica as she squirmed about in his lap. “It's changing it that's going to be hard. The attitude that Ginny has about parentage is part of what led to my being forced to change houses.” He reached over for his cup of coffee and sipped at it as a distraction from his own memories of being a student here.

“But that wasn’t the only reason was it?” Neville asked.

“No, it wasn't,” Ianto replied. He kept one eye on his younger daughter as she squirmed down off his lap. “But I'm not certain if you'd want to know all of what happened.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not relevant to the current situation anyway.”

“Yes it is, sir,” Neville protested. “It could be the first step to changing Ginny’s mind.”

“Or could harden her opinion of ‘evil Slytherins’,” Ianto quickly retorted. “Not everyone can accept darkness so close to them.”

“Then we might as well find out because I think my future is in balance, too.” The young Gryffindor blushed as he spoke; the blush deepening as Draco chuckled softly in response.

“Stating your intentions the old way, Longbottom?”

“I am a Longbottom, Malfoy,” Neville retorted. “If any family is entitled to be old fashioned, mine is.”

“Draco,” the Malfoy heir replied with a slight tilt of his head. “You’re one of us, if only because of Harry and the Mudblood.” Draco jumped and rubbed at the back of his head while glaring over his shoulder at Harry. “Ow! I told you what she said.”

“That’s not stopping me from smacking you!” Harry retorted. He sat back with a smug grin as the youngest girl in the room toddled over to the blonde and plopped herself in his lap.

“You’re pretty!” she cried while patting his cheek. “I like you.”

“That’s nice,” Draco muttered uncomfortably. He had no idea what to do with the little girl. Still he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling off his lap. When she grabbed for his plate, he absently shifted it closer to her with one hand so she could reach the snacks still on the plate. He rolled his eyes a bit but looked back at Harry to finish his comment. “Your best friend told me if I stopped calling her Mudblood she’d worry about me. I’m not giving her a reason so stop hitting me.”

Before the two boys could get into a war of words, Ginny interrupted the conversation. “You were in school with my brothers, weren’t you?” she asked Ianto.

“Bill and Charlie, yes,” Ianto replied after a moment. “Bill was in the same year as me.”

“I’ll find out on my own and make up my mind on my own,” Ginny continued as she realized that Professor Jones was no longer meeting her eyes like he had previously in the conversation. He was disturbed, clearly so, by speaking of her older siblings. “Is that what you mean, Professor Harkness?”

“Exactly what I mean,” he replied with a smile. “You may be labeled by that Hat and your classmates, but you are each more than just that label. You're young, too young to be in the situation you are in, but you all have choices. It's time to take control of your lives and your choices.”

“All of you think on it,” Ianto added quietly. “Now, Mister Malfoy, give me back my daughter. She's drooling on you.”

“Ew!” Draco hastily handed Mica over to Ianto. “Drool... ick!”

“That's it, Draco,” Ginny said giggling. “You are now officially a big brother. It's not real until the drool stage. I ruined shirts for each and every one of my brothers.”

"I have no siblings, remember,” Draco snapped with a frown. “None of us purebloods do. Once there's an heir, that's it."

“Wrong,” Ginny retorted. She gave him a smug smile. “I'm pureblood. Weasleys are as pureblood as the Longbottoms and older than the Malfoys. Therefore, that is the custom of some families, but not all."

“Grandmother once told me my parents were hoping for more children,” Neville added almost before Ginny finished speaking.

“Well, you know what most purebloods think of the Weasleys, Weasley.” Draco’s frown deepened as he stared at her. “I know my parents started sleeping separately from the day I was born. Same with Pansy's.”

“Well, obviously others didn't,” Harry said quietly. “The Lestranges didn't either. There are siblings in that family tree.”

“Not since the last war against the Dark Lord,” Draco crossed his arms and sneered at the others in the room. “Aside from the Weasley's how many multi-child pureblood families do you know of in the last generation...” he paused for a moment and then clarified his statement. “Between us and Professor Jones in age.”

“But Draco...,” Harry protested. “That means it's not a pureblood custom. It's a Voldemort one.”

"How do you figure that?" Draco asked.

“Think about it,” Harry said. “Before the War, purebloods had children, plural. After, those who sided with Voldemort started limiting themselves to one. I mean, yes, others also did, but it was more by circumstance. Neville's parents were hurt, Luna's mother died in an accident. The ones that made it a rule all followed Voldemort.”

Ianto, having just returned to the room from putting Mica to bed, blinked at Harry's insight. "And it seems to have started with my parents. I am the oldest child among his living followers. I was born before his attack on your parents, Mr. Potter."

Jack looked up from where he had taken Ianto’s chair. He considered his lover, then the other students for a moment, before he pulled Ianto down into his lap. He thought for another long moment before speaking, “We might need to look into that, Ianto.” He wrapped an arm around Ianto’s waist to keep him in place when the young man attempted to get up. He wasn’t hiding their relationship when they weren’t ‘on duty’ as it were. “If this Voldemort guy imposed that rule on his followers, he had to have a good reason.”

“Oh!” Neville exclaimed.

"Oh?" Ianto asked. He hoped the young man would clarify his thoughts. He gave up on trying getting away from Jack and just watched the students for their reactions to the other man’s actions.

“Maybe it was fear,” Neville explained. “He knew the prophecy. Maybe he thought… no, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“What about the money?” Pansy interjected quietly. She looked at her fellow Slytherins for support. “We’re all from money. I know my parents regularly gave money to the Dark Lord.”

“So they couldn’t afford more children?” Draco asked facetiously. “Is that what you’re thinking, Pansy? Do you know just how rich the Malfoys are?”

“But, Draco,” Neville smoothly interrupted. “Maybe it was both. The fewer pureblood children born, the fewer to challenge him later. And more disposable income he could get his hands on.”

“And since the older pureblood families tend to intermarry, fewer children means fewer marriages,” Pansy continued Neville’s train of thought. “And still more spare money. We’re dying out, if we’re honest. My parents gave up on trying for a son and settled for me.”

“The purebloods are financing his bid for empire by dying out,” Jack summarized.

“I think so.” Pansy nodded to him. “I have people as old as the Headmaster petitioning for me as a wife. I have a fortune coming to me when I marry assuming I marry another pureblood.”

“And if you marry another fortune that’s two estates tied up on a single child,” Neville continued. “You can maintain your standard of living even if he takes half of your money for his war.”

“We definitely need to look into ways of cutting off that man’s supply lines,” Jack said with a significant look at Ianto.

“Good luck with that,” Draco snapped. “No one believes he’s back for one thing.” He looked back at Harry. “Sorry, Harry, but your word isn’t good enough. Plus, Father regularly bribes officials to look the other way with regard to his more ‘questionable’ expenses.”

“Your father’s never met someone like me, Mister Malfoy,” Jack said. “And be careful. You’re starting to think for yourself. Think hard about that, Draco. Once you get into the habit, it never leaves you.”

“And Harry doesn’t need everyone to believe him right now,” Ianto added. “He only needs a few people willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Draco was torn between pouting and being pissed which sent Ginny into a giggling fit until she was leaning heavily against Neville in an attempt to stay upright. Pansy, however, nodded and smiled over at Harry.

“I believe him. My father…” she trailed off and shook her head rather than finish her thoughts.

“I know he’s back,” Blaise added. He frowned as he spoke. “I’m being pushed to choose a pureblood wife so she can be tied to the Zabinis by the ‘usual contract’.”

“And just what is the usual contract, Mr. Zabini?” Jack asked.

“Don’t!” Pansy snapped. She jumped off the sofa, nearly tripping over Draco, as she took a few steps away and wrapped her arms around herself.

“He asked, Pansy,” Blaise said. He turned to Jack and licked his lips before speaking. “Blood marriage, sir.” He glanced back at Pansy and shook his head. “Pureblood wives are bound to their husbands by spells of fidelity with contracts signed in blood which turn the girls into little more than possessions and slaves. That’s part of why the girls all threw fits over the exercise, why should they bother learning anything more than the bare minimum as they won't be allowed to use any of it.”

“What the bloody hell?” Jack snapped. He drifted off into heavy cursing in several languages.

Not even knowing the languages, Ianto knew what the other man was doing. He smacked Jack’s shoulder and nodded to the students in the room. “Impressionable young minds, Jack,” he chided.

“That has to be another one of those Voldemort customs,” Harry interrupted. “Because I know that Molly Weasley is everything but subservient!”

“He’s turned you into cattle, Draco,” Neville added. “Very elegant, very wealthy, and very refined cattle. He turns your females into breeding stock. He controls when and how you breed. And he takes all the profit for himself.” He shook his head at the shocked looks the other purebloods gave him in response. “I’m sorry and I hate to say it, but that’s what’s happening.”

“Pans?” Draco said softly. He didn’t want to believe it, but if anyone would know if Neville was telling the truth, it would be Pansy. “Pansy?”

“You saw the contract my father offered yours for me. It was the first offer,” she paused for a moment. “Your father…”

“Yeah, he said it wasn’t strict enough,” Draco finished for her. “I think it’s being rewritten, but you know what I think of you.” He thought hard for a moment before shifting his attention to Professor Harkness. “You’re right, sir. I have a great deal to think about.”

“Jack likes to make people think, Draco,” Ianto said quietly. “Just know, all of you, that any of us – Jack, Tosh, Owen and I – are available to listen while you think.”

“Sometimes you need someone who doesn’t even understand your life to point out the flaws,” Jack continued for Ianto. “So ask us questions. We won’t lie to you and we won’t feed you the usual claptrap because we don’t even know it.”

“What about the prophecy then?” Harry asked softly.

“Yeah,” Jack muttered. “What's that all about?”

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,” Hermione’s voice broke into the conversation. She smiled at everyone from the doorway to the sitting room where she was leaning heavily on Owen’s offered arm. “Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.” She nodded to Jack. “That’s the prophecy about Harry, Dad. He was told it by Dumbledore after last year’s tournament.

“Well, that's a way of keeping the options down,” Jack mused. “More than half the purebloods are tied to him and wouldn't dare defy him and I'll bet real money no purebloods have been born at the end of July for generations.”

“Neville and me are the only ones,” Harry said with a laugh.

“But he went after you,” Jack said. “Why? Or did the prophecy apply to both of you _until_ he went after you?”

“It could have,” Hermione said. She was clearly shocked. “It could have.”

“My parents and Harry’s were attacked within twenty-four hours of each other,” Neville said. “Until the attack on Harry, it applied to us both.”

“Harry,” Ginny interrupted. “I thought your mother was a muggle?”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Harry demanded. “My mother was a muggleborn, yes.”

“Then you’re not a pureblood,” Draco said.

“We’re missing something,” Jack mused. “If Voldemort places such importance on being a pureblood, Neville should have been his target. Harry shouldn’t have even registered.”

“The Fidelius charm,” Ginny answered the unasked question. “Weren’t both of you hidden by it as babies?”

“No,” Neville said. “Harry was. I wasn’t.”

“And my parents secret keeper told Voldemort where they were,” Harry snapped. He clenched his hands in his lap. He stared as Draco slowly unpeeled his fingers and stroked his palm for a moment while murmuring a charm to heal the cuts Harry’s nails made in his skin. Harry refused to let Draco pull away afterwards, clinging to Draco’s hand as he stared angrily at Jack. “He told and they died!”

“Someone knew the prophecy applied only to Harry,” Jack said.

“Until I told Hermione, who just told all of you, only a few people knew it,” Harry explained. He clutched Draco’s hand harder as he spoke. “My parents, Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. I’m told that Snape told it to Voldemort but then, after my parents’ death, defected to the light side.”

“No, Harry, you don’t understand,” Ianto said. “Everyone who knew of the prophecy should have assumed that it would apply to either you or Neville. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to try to protect you specifically.” He leant back against Jack’s chest and stared at the young man. “What did they know that even Voldemort didn’t?”

“Conversely,” Jack interjected. “Someone went to a great deal of trouble to distract attention from Neville.”

“Neville, as a pureblood, should have been the more logical target. But,” Hermione trailed off and shrugged helplessly. She hated not knowing answers. “We really don’t know why Voldemort chose Harry.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Owen snapped. “You sit.” He manhandled Hermione over to the sofa and shoved the occupants off it in order to sit the girl down. “You’re as bad as Jack and Ianto. You sit there, rest, and talk to your parents. Hermione needs her rest. As for the rest of you,” Owen straightened up and glared at all the students. “You lot get out of here. It’s time for dinner. So, off you get… and show Tosh and me how to get from here to the meal and back again.”

*** CHAPTER THIRTEEN ***

With all the children gone, Ianto leapt to his feet and began to pace. He was torn between demanding the long overdue explanation and hiding in the bedroom so he wouldn’t hear it. The silence in the room became heavy and awkward until Ianto couldn’t take it anymore. He turned back to the other two and asked quietly, “So, do I finally get the answer to my question, Jack?”

“Which question?” Jack asked back. “You’ve had so many recently.”

“The one that started this whole adventure,” Ianto replied. He shoved his hand through his hair and gave Hermione an apologetic look. “Why do I have another daughter, Jack? Especially one only eight years younger than me.”

“You’re only twenty-four?” Hermione asked. “Okay, now I really am curious. I did some reading in the Black library after I left this past summer, so having two fathers isn’t so odd to me anymore.” She looked away for a moment, fiddling with her jumper hem, before looking up with a smile. “It certainly made Sirius’s comment about the Black family tapestry make better sense, but Dad, I never took you for a…”

“I’m not!” Jack jumped in before she could finish. “It’s a bit complicated, but back in February I had to leave. I needed to find answers and my only source for them had arrived to refuel his ship on the Rift…”

“You mean the Doctor,” Ianto said flatly as he settled into the other armchair in the room. “I thought I saw his Tardis when I reviewed the CCTV but I wasn’t certain.”

“Yes, him,” Jack nodded. “I only had one chance, so I took it. Things happened, a lot of things, and we ended up in hiding from the Prime Minister who was actually an alien bent on conquering the world.” Jack shuddered, dropping his head to dig his hands into his hair, and took a deep breath to calm himself again. He looked up and smiled at Hermione. “Considering everything that happened, I’m still shocked that you survived long enough to be born.”

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“Before I could ask the Doctor for help with you, I died three times,” Jack murmured. He bit his lip hard before continuing just a bit louder than before. “I suspected I was pregnant, but with Martha around couldn’t say anything. Doc finally sent her off for a meal, so I talked to him. He confirmed it and we used this…” He tapped the manipulator with one finger. “To hop back to a time where I could hide from both Torchwood and the Prime Minister so I could safely have you.”

“Magic is a resilient gene, Jack,” Ianto said quietly. “It’s next to impossible for a wizarding child to die or be aborted once conception has occurred. It takes a lot of work to do either.”

“Ah,” Jack breathed. “That explains a lot, but anyway. I took Hermione, who I named but nothing else, to one of my older daughters and her husband. They were unable to have kids themselves, so I asked Monica to adopt Hermione. I couldn’t tell you until after I came back because…”

“Paradox,” Ianto said sadly. “Yet you didn’t tell me when you got back.” He rose and stalked from the room. He couldn’t look at Jack or Hermione, not right now at least. Not when all he wanted to do was strangle his lover for keeping the news from him after promising him honesty and fidelity just after his return. He went, not for their bedroom, but Mica’s room. He dropped to his knees by his younger daughter’s bed and brushed her hair back from her face. “At least I’ve always had you,” he whispered softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Mica?” Jack asked quietly from the doorway. He had heard Ianto’s whisper, his fifty-first century genes giving him certain enhanced senses along with the pheromones, and it tore at his heart to hear the pain in his lover’s voice.

“That’s different,” Ianto retorted. He tugged the quilt up a bit higher over Mica, made certain her teddy was in easy reach, and drew in a breath before releasing it on a soft sigh. “Not the same thing at all.”

“Why, Ianto?” Jack murmured. “Help me understand.”

“Mica wasn’t between us,” Ianto said. He rose slowly to his feet. “I didn’t go out, get pregnant, hide it from you and then not tell you about the child for years.”

“You hid a part of yourself from me,” Jack retorted. “After promising never to do it again.”

“You made the same promise, Jack.”

“Yes,” Jack agreed. He wanted to reach for Ianto, hold him, but knew they had to have this out first. “I wonder why we both broke it.”

“Mica was before it, Jack,” Ianto retorted. He took a few steps away from Mica’s bed to keep from waking her while he argued with Jack. “I've kept nothing from you since I made you that promise. I'm all but married to you...” he trailed off. That wasn’t something he wanted to admit yet. “Yet you still lied to me."

“That's pure sophistry, Ianto,” Jack snapped. “So you can lie and hide things if they happened before you made your promise? The fact that you had a daughter was irrelevant to our lives?” Jack paused, held up a hand as Ianto opened his mouth to retort. “No, don't say anything. I know I fucked up by not telling you sooner. I've apologized and explained. Now you have to decide if that's enough.”

“Jack, dammit...” Ianto trailed off and again shoved his hand through his hair. “That's...” He didn’t want to say what he was thinking. That it wasn’t fair because they’d just spent a few days telling their new students just how unfair real life was.

“I love you, Ianto Jones,” Jack said earnestly. “I think I have from the day I fished you out of the fountain, even when I was so angry at you I could have cheerfully killed you. But we can't live holding secrets and grudges. We have two daughters and someday...”

"Someday what?” Ianto asked. He wondered what Jack was thinking that he trailed off yet smiled that beautiful little smile Jack only seemed to get when he was with Mica. “What, Jack?”

“We might have more.” Jack ducked his head before looking up at Ianto from beneath his lashes. “If you want to,” he said somewhat sheepishly.

“What about Torchwood?”

“We'll manage,” Jack said. A happy smile crossed his lips. Ianto wasn’t outright saying no. There was a chance for more babies with his lover. “We have so far. Gwen will, too, probably pretty soon.” He reached out and caught Ianto’s hands in his own. “We’re going to set Torchwood on its ear, Ianto Jones. Throw out the rule book.”

“No more lies of omission then?”

“No more,” Jack promised. “Ever. Even if it hurts.”

“Alright...,” Ianto drawled out. “But I still want a proper bonding before we have another child, Jack.”

"Deal."

"I am sorry, Jack,” Ianto murmured. He took the final step necessary to be in his lover’s arms. He tugged Jack’s hands behind him in a silent demand to be held before wrapping his own arms around Jack’s neck.

"About what?"

"All this,” Ianto said. He freed one hand and waved it at the castle around them.

“You mean pulling me into a battle between good and evil? Been there, done that, Jones,” Jack retorted. “And those kids are worth it.”

“It's the Second World War all over again, but no, that's not what I meant,” Ianto replied. “I'm sorry for expecting more from you than I'm willing to give in return."

“You have given me enough to keep me happy and domestic. Happier than I've been since Estelle.”

“I'm glad because I love you,” Ianto murmured. He twisted a bit to rest his head on Jack’s shoulder for a moment and breathed deeply of Jack’s unique scent. After a long silent minute, he lifted his head to give Jack a serious look. “I don't know how I would manage if you left me again.”

“If I have to go, you will know why,” Jack said. His voice, his tone, everything spoke of his seriousness. “But short of intergalactic war, I’m going to be here until you leave me, Ianto.” There was a deep underlying sadness to Jack’s little speech, the painful acknowledgement that he would long outlive Ianto. “And if I do leave, I will always come back.”

“I will never willingly leave you, Jack,” Ianto swore. “I thought you knew that already.”

“Then we’re on the same page. You and I are forever, Ianto.”

“Forever,” Ianto promised. He slid a hand around to cup Jack’s cheek, holding him steady for a soft, yet lingering kiss. “Forever, indeed.” The kiss broke when a petite body flung herself at them, arms wrapping about both of them, as she sobbed. Ianto staggered a step back, extracting himself from Jack’s arms to gather Hermione into his instead. He patted her back rather awkwardly while casting a helpless look at Jack. “Um, Hermione…?”

Jack took pity on his lover and shifted Hermione into his own arms. He picked her up bridal style and carried her back out to the sitting room sofa. He sat, settled Hermione in his lap and cuddled her the way he had when she was much younger. He just let her cry herself out, smiling at Ianto as the other man joined them on the sofa. His expression was all worried parent. “She’ll be fine, Ianto,” Jack murmured to Ianto. “This is the emotional release after several tense months and likely a bit of reaction to us being together.” He shook his head just a bit at Ianto’s questioning look. “Story for another time, but I’m right, aren’t I, sweetheart?”

“Uh huh,” was mumbled to them around sobs and sniffles.

Jack wasn’t the least bit surprised when Ianto began to stoke Hermione’s hair while singing softly to her. It was something Ianto did for Mica when the little girl was being comforted by Jack after a nightmare. Jack held back the relieved sigh as he had visual proof of Ianto’s complete acceptance of his firstborn daughter.

“I am a selfish bastard,” Ianto whispered as Hermione’s storm of crying settled into silence.

“That you could never be even if you practiced for a month of Sundays,” Jack replied. “She'll find her footing again, Ianto. We’ll help her and this time she'll have Auntie Tosh, and Auntie Gwen, and Auntie Martha to help her with the girl parts.”

"I don't want her to go back to the people who raised her, Jack. That makes me selfish. She's ours,” Ianto said firmly. “Not theirs."

“One can love many people. She loves the parents who raised her and she can love us. Differently, but not less.”

“I know, but I,” Ianto trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me,” Jack half ordered half asked. “No secrets, remember?”

“I missed the first sixteen years of her life. I don't want to miss anymore.” Ianto leant forward and pressed a kiss to Hermione’s temple. “Especially with her being on the front lines of this war thanks to her friendship with Harry Potter."

“We'll be right there, too, Ianto,” Jack said. “We're not letting these poor kids fight alone."

“I know, but...” Ianto shook his head and shrugged. “I'm not explaining myself well.”

“What is it, Ianto?”

“She’s _our_ daughter. Not the Grangers.” Ianto slid carefully off the sofa to pace a bit in front of it. “She’s the Lestrange heiress unless you have a son at some nebulous point in the future and I…” He trailed off, looked back at the twosome on the couch and sighed. “I just want her with us.”

“All that will be sorted out, Ianto,” Jack said. There was a unverbalized promise in his voice. “Hermione's old enough to make decisions and we will have to respect them. She'll be the one setting boundaries. But somehow I don't think she will turn her back on all this.”

“Yeah,” Ianto grudgingly agreed. “Unlike me, she loves it here.”

“I have a feeling your former potions professor has a career in mind for her already.”

“He does,” Ianto replied with a smug smirk. “That's why he was so ticked over her accident. He wants her as an apprentice. This from a man who I know from my own days as a student here swore he would never take one on.”

“She impressed him, eh?” Jack grinned up at Ianto. “That’s our baby girl!”

“I’m told she brewed polyjuice potion,” Ianto smirked even more. “That’s a NEWT, or seventh year, potion. And she brewed it in her second year without any assistance.”

“Well,” Jack drawled out teasing Ianto just a bit. “Any child of ours would be a genius.”

“Of course, I do know everything,” Ianto retorted. “We should put her to bed...” He sighed softly.

“Yes,” Jack agreed. “She needs to regain her strength. I'll carry her. But where do we put her?”

“That’s easy,” Ianto said. He led the way to Mica’s room. “A few flicks with the wand and there’s a bed for Hermione in Mica’s room.” He suited action to words, summoning up a nice four poster double bed for their older daughter as well as pulling back the covers to make it easier for Jack to put her to bed.

“It turns me on to see you do that,” Jack murmured as he passed Ianto. He settled Hermione on the bed, slipped off her shoes and covered her up. He pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead, turned to do the same for Mica, and waved Ianto out of the room ahead of him. “Come on. We’ll leave the door slightly open so we can hear her or Mica if either calls. But you,” Jack leisurely eyed Ianto from head to toe before meeting his eyes with a wicked grin. “I have a yen to see you flick your wand in our bedroom.”

“Jack,” Ianto drawled out, all affronted male while inside he was grinning.

“What?” Jack asked innocently. He stalked toward Ianto as he spoke. “We’re alone here. Finally. All the kids are asleep. Let’s take advantage of the temporary quiet.”

“You’ve wanted to use that line since we got here, haven’t you?” Ianto demanded. When Jack’s grin deepened enough to border on cheesy, he rested his hands on his hips and frowned for a moment. “Get!” he ordered, pointing imperiously to their bedroom.

*** INTERLUDE ***

Ianto followed Jack into the bedroom, tugged his wand back out of his sleeve, and smirked as he pulled the door partway closed. He tapped the wand against his palm for a moment before quickly casting a modified _Silencio_ on the door. He turned back to Jack and smiled. “Modified silencing charm. We’ll hear the girls if they need us, but they won’t hear us.”

“Are you saying I can’t be quiet?”

“I know you can’t be quiet,” Ianto retorted. He chuckled softly. “Your screaming nearly got me evicted from my flat before we moved into the terrace house.”

“Oh,” Jack murmured sheepishly. He dropped his gaze to the floor and absently toed off his shoes. “I didn’t…”

“Hey.” Ianto took a step forward and cupped Jack’s chin in his hand. He gently lifted the other man’s head and smiled. “I like knowing I can make you scream so loudly people across the lane can hear us, but here…”

“Not a good idea?”

“Definitely not,” Ianto said. He stroked his fingers along Jack’s jaw until he could curl his hand around his lover’s neck. He pulled the other man in for a long lingering kiss gently sucking on Jack’s lower lip as he pulled away. “So, still want to see what I can do with this,” he purred waving the wand between them, “in the bedroom?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

Ianto chuckled softly and took a step back. He twisted his wrist, murmuring softly beneath his breath, and smiled as all of Jack’s clothes flew off his body, folded and stacked themselves up on the nearby dresser. He laughed more freely as his lover gaped at him. “Faster than a defabricator, yes?”

“Uh…”

After gently closing Jack’s mouth, Ianto repeated the spell on himself before pressing the tip of his wand into Jack’s chest. “On the bed, _cariad_ , and I’ll show you a few more things I can do while I drive you totally insane.”

Ianto watched, very appreciatively, as Jack scrambled up onto their large four poster bed to lie back in the center of it. He considered the other man for a long moment before following him up onto the bed. He straddled Jack’s stomach, careful to keep his weight off his lover, and rested a hand over Jack’s heart. “Answer a question for me?”

“Sure,” Jack said. His face twisted up into his classic confused look as he wondered why Ianto was asking question when they were naked and in bed. “Ask away.”

“You conceive and carry much like a woman does even though you don’t have the external genitalia?”

“It takes a bit more for me to conceive, but essentially, yes,” Jack replied. “Why?”

Ianto just smiled down at him. He shifted his weight, slowly edging backward and making certain to rub their erections together as he moved down Jack’s body, and tapped his wand against Jack’s stomach while whispering softly. “Contraceptive charm,” he said. He looked up at Jack from beneath his lashes. “I can guarantee that every boy in the school above third year knows it. It takes the girls longer to figure it out. They generally stick to potions.”

“Oh, no, no, no…” Jack muttered. “I’m sending Hermione to a convent!”

Ianto threw his head back with a laugh before looking back at Jack with a smug grin. “Jack, Jack, Jack…” he chuckled through the sentence. “You are such a typical father.”

“Me?” Jack squeaked. He started to reach for Ianto, fully intending to pull the other man down and under him, when Ianto snapped Latin at him. Jack arched his neck and stared at his wrists, now bound to the headboard of the bed by a length of soft rope. “Ianto?”

“Hmm?”

“Why the…?” Jack tugged again before glaring up at his lover. “You didn’t ask first.”

“Oh, I’m in charge tonight,” Ianto said with a smirk. “And you wanted a demonstration of what I could do with my wand, so I gave you one.” He twirled said wand between his fingers. “Want me to stop?”

“I…?” Jack closed his eyes for a moment. There were so many things he didn’t want to talk about yet he’d sworn just minutes before to not keep things from Ianto. He bit his lip hard, wanting to trust, yet discovering very quickly that he couldn’t relax. “Yeah,” he choked out while ducking his head a bit to avoid Ianto’s eyes. “Please.”

“ _Finite_ ,” Ianto murmured. He tossed his wand away, listening with half-an-ear to the clatter of it on the bedside table, and immediately shifted off Jack’s body. He settled beside him, stroking one hand lightly over Jack’s stomach and chest, and humming softly. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I will never hurt you. Tell me what you want… what you need…”

“I need you to let me go,” Jack rasped out. “Because if you don’t I may start screaming.”

“Already done, love,” Ianto murmured. He slid his hands up, caught Jack’s hands in his and shifted them down to rest on his lover’s stomach. “Already done.” He lifted one hand in his to massage it while watching Jack’s eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes were unfocused, dark with fear, while every inch of Jack’s body vibrated with tension. “You’re free.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Ianto, I’m sorry,” Jack repeated several times before rolling onto his side to wrap his arms tight around Ianto’s waist. He buried his face in Ianto’s stomach. Not even moving on the erection now beneath his cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s… I don’t think I’ll be ready for bondage games for a very long time.”

“It’s okay,” Ianto murmured. He ran the back of his hand over Jack’s cheek while he threaded the other hand through his lover’s hair. “I should have asked beforehand.”

“Tell me we’re going to be okay…” Jack begged. He twisted a bit to look up at Ianto. “Just tell me that and make love to me.”

“I will.” Ianto bent down and pressed a gentle barely there kiss on Jack’s lips. “We’re going to be just fine, _cariad_.” He slowly stroked his hands over Jack urging him to shift up the bed and lie back amongst the pillows. “I promise.”

Ianto ran his hand back down Jack’s side, feeling the tension ease off then increase as he smoothed his palm over certain portions of the other man’s body, and made note of each spot where Jack unconsciously flinched beneath Ianto’s touch. He licked his lips and stretched out beside Jack. After a moment, he reached up and cupped Jack’s cheek, silently urged him to turn for a slow leisurely kiss, and smiled when he broke it. “My Jack,” he breathed only to swallow back a whimper as Jack’s eyes darkened with fear again. Sighing, he shifted to the Welsh he learned from the Joneses as a young teen. “ _Cariad_ ,” he whispered across Jack’s lips before taking them in another slow exploratory kiss.

When Jack had relaxed again, kissing him back with an ever increasing hunger, Ianto urged him over onto his back and began kissing his way down the smooth planes of Jack’s chest toward his stomach. At every mentally noted spot where a flinch occurred, he took the time to tease the flesh with licks and barely there nips. Ianto desperately concealed his smirk as the tension eased from Jack’s body to be replaced with soft sighs, deep groans and the twisting moves of physical begging.

Ianto ran a hand down the inside of Jack’s thigh and gently pressed a bit to get Jack to spread his legs. He knelt between Jack’s legs and stroked his hands all the way up his lover’s body, following the motion with his own, until he could deeply kiss Jack. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack managed to pant. “I’m good.”

“Wanna feel even better?” Ianto asked. He rested one hand on the pillows by Jack’s head while the other slipped down to grasp Jack’s cock, stroking it gently, and teasing the head with his thumb. “Jack?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Ianto ordered softly.

“I want you in me,” Jack snapped back. He brought a hand up to grasp Ianto’s hair, pulled him down and took a kiss, one which showed exactly what Jack wanted without a word being said. “Right now.”

Ianto nuzzled against Jack’s neck, murmuring another incantation, and slipped his now lubricated fingers into his lover to prepare him. He took his time, one finger at a time, always watching Jack’s expressions as he both teased the other man and stretched him. Finally, as Jack dissolved from English to one of the many alien languages he knew in his desperation, Ianto pulled his fingers from Jack’s arse. He lined his cock up with the well-prepared opening and slowly eased inside with careful thrusts of his hips until he could go no further. He braced himself above Jack, smiling down at him, only to gasp in shock when Jack suddenly reached up, grabbed him and flipped them over so Jack was on top and grinning down at him.

“Tired of waiting,” Jack growled throatily as his tightened his hold on Ianto’s hands. He used that hold for leverage as he set up a slow rhythm of rise and fall. He would lift up until the head of Ianto’s cock was just barely inside him before sinking down as slowly as he could only to repeat the action again and again. “Need this, Ianto. Need you… Need to know you’re still with me.”

“Always,” Ianto gasped. “Though I may go a bit insane….” A low chuckle answered Ianto’s complaint. Before he could even think about rolling them again, Jack sped up. Ianto growled deeply, thrusting up to meet Jack’s every downward thrust, and shifted to grasp his lover’s erection. He curled their hands around Jack’s cock, fisting him, and freed his other hand to reach up and pull Jack down into a kiss that he met halfway. “Dammit, Jack,” he snapped as he pulled away from the kiss.

“I know...” Jack panted the words. “Come for me, Ianto. Come in me. I need to feel…”

Ianto’s arched and screamed as Jack dropped completely down on him and clenched his muscles at the same time. His long delayed orgasm crashed through his body while he held Jack’s gaze, unwilling to look away. He reached for Jack’s cock, stroked it somewhat roughly, and smiled when Jack’s head when back as a desperate, almost pain-filled, cry escaped his lover.

Ianto didn’t even get a moment to question before Jack dropped down on him, face buried in his neck, while hot tears stained his skin. He didn’t question the reaction. He just wrapped his arms tight around that shuddering body and stroked Jack’s back. The only sound in the room for quite some time was Jack’s harsh sobs and rasping breaths before, finally, he calmed enough to lift his head and look down at Ianto with a tiny sad smile.

“Thank you,” Jack whispered. He stroked his fingers over Ianto’s lips and tried to smile. He knew he failed when worry lines marred Ianto’s forehead. He leant down and pressed a brief kiss to soft swollen lips. “I’m not ready to explain, Ianto, but know that I will one day.” He kissed again before shifting his weight off the younger man. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do,” Ianto replied with a smile of his own. “Just like I love you. I don’t need the words, Jack. I know you love me.” He shifted them about on the bed, grabbed the covers and pulled them up over both of them. He then urged Jack back over to rest his head on his chest while Ianto stroked his hair and neck. “Take all the time you need, Jack,” he murmured. “I can wait.”

*** CHAPTER FOURTEEN ***

Jack sprawled in the desk chair, propped his booted feet up on one corner, and smiled up at Ianto as he accepted a cup of coffee from his lover. They now knew the secret, or at least one of the secrets, to Ianto’s amazing coffee; however, the three team members at Hogwarts had sworn not to reveal that secret to Gwen. Speaking of Gwen, they really needed to check in with her as it had been two weeks since they’d left Cardiff for Scotland. Jack looked across the desk to Tosh. “Are we connected yet?” he asked quietly.

“Almost….” Tosh muttered while typing away on her laptop. A soft triumphant sound slipped from the technician before she turned her laptop a bit so everyone could see the screen. “Now we are. Good morning, Gwen.”

 _“Morning! Don’t you all look cozy?”_ Gwen’s voice, all fake chipper in comparison to her exhausted appearance, echoed through the laptop speakers. _“So what’s going on?”_

“We’ll be here a while, Gwen,” Jack said. He dropped his feet off the desk, twisted about and leant his elbows on the desktop in order to lean closer to the camera. “It’s a long and complicated story going back millennia, but it’s up to us to help the key players not only win, but do so intact.”

 _“So I’m in charge down here for a while?_ ”

“More than a while,” Jack replied. “I’ve been thinking,” he broke off as sounds of coughing echoed from his side of the conversation. He then restarted once the team settled again. “I’ve been thinking, and Ianto agreed with me, that we should throw out the rulebook with regard to Torchwood and families. I know you and Rhys want to have kids. Ianto and I have two already and…” he trailed off with a faint blush before swallowing and trying to explain again. “Anyway, I want you to get sufficient independent command experience that we can field two full teams out of Cardiff. One under my command, one under yours so the Rift is always guarded even if someone has to step back from field duty for family reasons or maternity leave.”

 _“Nice idea,”_ Gwen conceded. _“I didn’t spend enough time in command while you were off on your trip then?”_

“No,” Jack shrugged. “I bounced it by the few people I have to report to, you need a few more months experience. So this is it. We’re up here and you’re in charge.” He pointed an imperious finger at the screen. “But I want your solemn promise that if you feel you’re in over your head, you call us.”

 _“Of course!_ ” Gwen grinned and almost bounced in her seat for a moment. _“So what else do you have for me, I know it couldn’t have been just that._ ”

“It’s not,” Jack paused for a moment to think. “I need you to do some research for me. Look into campaign contributions, other monetary donations, and any questionable transactions between politicians and any of the following people: Tom Marvolo Riddle; Lucius Malfoy or his wife, Narcissa; The Lestranges which would be…” Jack trailed off and looked over at Ianto.

“Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Rastaban Lestrange or Rodolphus Lestrange,” Ianto listed dispassionately. He glanced at the gathered group and sighed softly. “And before any of you ask, yes, Bellatrix and Rodolphus are my biological parents. Rastaban is my uncle.”

 _“I’m sorry, Ianto”,_ Gwen said softly. _“We can’t choose our parents, but we can choose to not be like them._ ”

“Thanks, Gwen,” Ianto said. “The rest of the list includes the following last names: Avery, Nott, Zabini, Parkinson, Mulciber, Crouch, Crabbe, Goyle, Carrow, Dolohov, Rookwood, and Rosier. There may be some use of the name Black as well.” He took a deep breath and smiled slowly. “If you find any of those names, forward the information to Tosh. I’ll check them over with the genealogies here and we’ll go from there.”

“ _I’ll get Andy on that then,”_ Gwen replied with a nod. _“He’s much better at that sort of research than I am.”_

“At the rate we’re going, I might as well add him to the payroll,” Jack said with a disparaging sigh. “All right, bring him in.”

 _“All ready done.”_ Gwen laughed. _“I hired Andy and Rhys. We have Martha and a couple of UNIT men she trusts on long term loan.”_ She smiled at Jack. _“We’re managing just fine, Jack_.”

“Good,” Jack replied. “I might have to give you a promotion at some point.” He shook his head before levering himself to his feet. “Listen, Ianto and I have a class to teach, so here’s Tosh. She’s got a program that might help with the research. If there’s anything I, or the others here need to know, send us a report by email.” He started to turn away, but turned back to reiterate the most important point. “Remember, call if something comes through that you don’t think you can handle.”

 _“Will do,”_ Gwen said with a nod _. “Now, go corrupt some teenagers._ ”

“Gwen!” Jack snapped but laughed as well. He rested a hand on Ianto’s back and started from the room listening with half-an-ear as Tosh and Owen continued the briefing behind them. As they slipped from the office into the classroom, Jack turned and pulled Ianto into his arms. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Ianto murmured. “Even though I’ve known for a decade what my parents are, it’s still hard to write them off. They are my parents.” He shook his head and dragged in a steadying breath. “It’s hard to accept that my mother is the woman who merrily tortured the Longbottoms into permanent insanity. They don’t even recognize their son, that’s how broken they are.” Ianto looked away for a moment before looking back at Jack. “Yet, I have memories of that same woman singing lullabies to me when I was little.”

“I know, Ianto,” Jack soothed while stroking his lover’s back. “No one wants to admit that their relatives are too far gone to be redeemed, but you are nothing like them nor are you responsible for their actions. Understand?”

“I try to,” Ianto murmured.

“That’s all I can ask,” Jack replied. “Now, let’s go teach these kids how to fire a gun.”

“Oh, Jack, no!” Ianto protested. He followed in Jack’s wake as they headed out to meet up with the kids out on the Quidditch pitch. “They are not ready for that. They barely listen to us now,” Ianto complained. “And you want to arm them? Are you insane?” There was no answer to his questions just one of Jack’s almost maniacal grins. “Jack!”

*** CHAPTER FIFTEEN ***

“Put it down, Mr. Weasley,” Jack snarled. He stalked across the pitch to snatch the gun from the hand of the red-headed Gryffindor. Quickly checking the safety on the gun, he placed it on the table beside them. Jack leant close to the student in question. “Never pick up a weapon and wave it about like it’s a toy. A weapon is handled with respect. You do not pick it up or pull it out unless you plan on using it to kill. Is that understood?”

“But…?”

“I said ‘is that understood’?” Jack repeated himself. He watched the young man, more a boy with his attitude, gulp before nodding. “Good, now join your classmates.” Jack waited, hand still resting on the gun, for the Weasley boy to join the other students gathered before him. “All of you sit down. Now!”

“No conjuring,” Ianto added. “Sit your arses on the grass. You have no problem doing so when it’s free time, but you expect us to cater to your egos. That ends now.” He took two steps forward, rested his hands on his hips, and glared at each student in turn. “Shut up, Miss Brown. This is your defense class not a gossip session.” Finally satisfied that they were paying attention to him, Ianto crossed his arms and demanded, “Who, aside from Hermione, can tell me what the instructions for this morning were?”

After several long minutes where the Gryffindors squirmed and the Slytherins thought, Ianto rolled his eyes and sighed. “I see you are giving me even more proof that Professor Snape’s opinion of the student body is correct.”

“Sirs?” Neville interrupted carefully.

“Yes, Mr. Longbottom?” Jack replied. He finally took his hand from the gun in order to shift around in front of the table and lean back against it. “Go ahead.”

“If I remember correctly, we were to come here after breakfast rather than go to the classroom,” the young man began cautiously. “We were to assemble near the table, not touch anything and wait for you to arrive.”

“Very good,” Ianto said. He smiled for the briefest moment. “So, why did we find several of you prodding the weapons on the table as well as Mr. Weasley acting the idiot by playing with a deadly weapon?”

“That’s not a weapon!” Ron Weasley interrupted. “It’s a muggle toy!”

Ianto snarled softly under his breath. He caught Jack’s eye and gave a quick tiny nod. He summoned a melon, quickly transfigured it to look just a bit like Lavender Brown, and sent it zipping a bit away from him to hover before one of the nearby human shaped targets they’d set up for the later practice.

“Do you remember the events of our arrival?” Jack snapped. He picked up the gun in question, flicked the safety off, racked the slide, and whirled about to fire at the nearby target. The weapon cracked loudly. The bullet whistled through the air. Then the melon exploded. Pieces went flying everywhere as the students flinched and ducked away. “Imagine if that was your girlfriend, seeing as you had the gun pointed at Miss Brown when I snapped at you.”

“Now that we have your attention,” Ianto said quietly. “All of you get one chance at this part of the course. You fail to pay attention today; you will be removed from this portion of the class and sent to a different one. A mistake here has the potential to be fatal.”

“Here are the rules for this portion of your defense class,” Jack took over the lecture. “Always assume that a weapon is loaded and ready for use. When carrying a weapon, always point the muzzle, or front end, in a safe direction. In general, the best thing to do is point the weapon at the ground. The second best option is to point it upwards like so.” Jack demonstrated this with the pistol he still held. “Always keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire.”

“Those are your basic rules for weapons training,” Ianto took over again. “Now, we’re going to split this class in half with Jack taking one group and me the other in order to instruct you in the parts of the weapon and how to handle it before we take you over to our temporary shooting range for a bit of practice.”

The group split up rather quickly for a change. As usual, the bulk of the Gryffindors, especially the girls, gathered around Jack while Ianto ended up with the Slytherins, Neville and a few of the Gryffindors that Jack waved over to him. Ianto glared the restless Gryffindors down until they settled on the grass. Only then did he begin to lecture them on the parts of the weapon, specifically pointing out the safety, and demonstrating how to break the gun down, check it over and reassemble it so it was ready to fire.

After answering questions from the students, Ianto again field stripped the specially modified Sig Sauer which Torchwood preferred to use for their sidearms and Jack had commissioned for the students to use. After the second demonstration, he assigned each student a weapon, making certain it was unloaded before handing it over to the student in question, and ordered them to do the lesson. He sat back, his own pistol back in its holster by his side, and watched them struggle to repeat what he’d done. He rolled to his feet, moving amongst his group of students, and crouched down beside them to give individual instruction. A shadow fell over Ianto. He looked up to find the youngest of the Weasley brothers standing nervously in front of him.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Weasley?” Ianto considered him without giving anything away while he quietly handed pieces of her pistol back to Pansy in the order they were supposed to go back together in.

“May I join your group here?”

Ianto considered the young Gryffindor. He knew the boy was a good friend to both Hermione and Harry, or had been before the resorting incident, and that even though they were developing a new circle of friends now, they missed Ron Weasley. He glanced over at his daughter and her friend and received a pair of discrete nods in return. “Why, Mr. Weasley?” he asked.

“Because if I get killed by a muggle weapon I'd rather it were because someone hates me than because some ditzy girl was looking at Professor Harkness instead of the target, sir,” Ron replied. The boy blushed as the gathered Slytherins chuckled at his response.

“Very well, Mr. Weasley,” Ianto said. He waved to a spot on the grass and watched Ron settle between Hermione and Blaise. “I assume you saw the demonstration?” When Ron nodded, he nodded in turn to the weapon in Ron’s hands. “Until I’m certain you can field strip and reassemble that blindfolded, no one’s shooting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ianto smiled as the students continued to work. It was of no surprise to him that Hermione was quick to learn the lesson though she still fumbled when asked to work at speed. She’d gotten lessons from Jack when she’d been in Cardiff over the past summer. What did surprise him was Draco. The Malfoy heir was very, very quick to disassemble the Sig Sauer and even faster to put it back together. Ianto moved over to stand next to the young man, watching intently as he took apart and reassembled the gun again. “Would you like a challenge, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco looked up at him. Ianto watched the youngster think for a long silent moment. A moment that stretched long enough to have the other members of his student group putting their pistols down in order to watch the two of them stare at each other. Finally, Draco inclined his head.

“Depends on what the challenge is, sir,” he answered.

“The ultimate result of this exercise is to be able to disassemble and reassemble the pistol blindfolded,” Ianto said quietly. “This is so that if you are ever in a situation where you are in the dark, you can tend to your weapon by touch alone and not be defenseless.”

“And the challenge?” Draco asked.

He never once flinched or looked away from Ianto. Ianto mentally awarded him points for that. “The challenge?” he repeated. “I’ll blindfold you, just as I would any other Torchwood recruit, and time how long it takes you to do the exercise.”

“And?”

“And if you do it in under two minutes, you’ll get fifty points,” Jack added from where he’d come up behind Ianto to watch the other set of students for a moment. “Do it in under a minute, I’ll double that to one hundred.”

Both men watched Draco think. They could clearly see him debating between maintaining his position as the ranking pureblood in the school and his pride in picking up a new skill, one direct from supposedly useless muggles, so quickly. Finally, Draco looked over at Harry who smiled encouragingly at him. “All right,” he said, looking up at the adults. “But I have to ask, why those two time limits?”

“The first time is the maximum time allowed for a Torchwood agent to complete the drill.” Jack grinned and glanced over at Ianto. “The second is the time our fastest agent completes the drill in…” he trailed off a bit. “Rounded up.”

“Hmm,” Draco raised an eyebrow as he glanced between his professors before focusing on Ianto. “I hope you don’t mind, Professor Jones, but I think I trust you with this more than him.”

“Of course,” Ianto said. As he stepped past Jack with handkerchief in hand, he hissed, “You know I’m going to get you for that later. And he’s so onto you.” Crouching behind Draco, Ianto wrapped the handkerchief around the Slytherin’s head as an improvised blindfold. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Before he even finished speaking, Draco was disassembling the pistol he held. His fingers moved quickly. First the magazine was popped out and laid aside then he began removing the slide, barrel and recoil spring to lay them out in front of him. With the pistol disassembled, Draco paused for a moment before quickly and efficiently reassembling the pistol, restoring the magazine, and laying the weapon on the blanket in front of him. “Done.”

A click signaled the stop of the stopwatch Jack held. Every one of the students watching, including Jack’s group of Gryffindor girls, started holding their breath as Ianto reached around Draco for the pistol. One of the requirements for successful completion of the drill was having the weapon not only assembled but ready to fire. Ianto checked the gun, going over it thoroughly, before nodding to Jack. He also tugged the blindfold off Draco and offered him the gun back. “How long?” he asked, curious as to the Slytherin’s skill.

“Damn,” Jack murmured. “I didn’t come up with points for this case.” He turned the stopwatch to show it to Ianto. “One minute exactly.” He looked down at Draco. “Very good, Draco.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, hell,” Jack muttered. “Now he sounds like you, Ianto.”

“He is a cousin on my mother’s side.” He smiled at Draco and nodded. “Seventy-five points to Slytherin. Split the difference from what we initially told you.” Ianto rested a hand on Draco’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “You’re better than I was. It took me over a month to manage the Torchwood time limit.”

“But not faster.”

“You hush!” Ianto looked up at Jack and shook his head. “The rest of you, get back to the drill. You don’t get to shoot until you have it down.” He watched the students scramble back to their spaces and get back to work. Jack followed his group and Ianto smiled at his own. A small laugh escaped him when he saw Hermione’s pout at Draco. “You can do it, Hermione. We’re not requiring speed from the rest of you.”

“Then why…” she trailed off. Her eyes widened before a wide smile settled on her face. “Oh, Dad is devious!” Then, she went back to her own work, ignoring or shushing the other students as they asked her questions.

*** CHAPTER SIXTEEN ***

Draco crossed his arms and leant back against a table to watch his professor. It had surprised him when Professor Jones had acknowledged their relationship. If the situation were reversed, Draco would be expected to snub the professor because once you turned your back on the family you were exiled forever. You were blasted from the family tapestry by the patriarch to make it permanent and never allowed back in again. He shifted his attention to his other professor for a moment. Maybe it was indeed time for him to discard the past and think for himself. Like this cousin obviously had learned to do.

The men’s conversation was finally over. As Draco watched, Professor Jones slipped on the long black teaching robes he generally didn’t wear. Even though he was intensely curious as to why the younger professor was putting them on, he didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t do to be less then knowledgeable or at least appear to know what was going on.

“Now, I’m certain you are all wondering why I’m putting these back on,” Professor Jones said. Draco’s head snapped up as he heard the very words he was thinking from the professor. He blinked in shock as the professor winked at him before addressing the class again. “While I’m actually more comfortable without the robes, you wear student robes all the time. You need to be able to shoot with the robes on. This is the best way to show you the necessary stance to shoot in the manner you will be most likely to use most.”

Finished speaking, Professor Jones twitched his robes one last time before drawing his gun from beneath them. Nodding to Professor Harkness, he took the steps to the firing line and brought the gun up in front of him. Repeated loud pops heralded his quick shooting. Draco just stared from the target to his professor and back again.

“How’d you do that?” Ron Weasley demanded before Draco could even form a coherent thought. “I mean really, how’d you do it.”

“Ianto’s had a lot of practice,” Professor Harkness said. He moved over to the other man, waved the students closer and smiled. “All of you note how he’s standing. Feet shoulder width apart, the leg opposite the hand gripping the pistol is slightly forward to provide a stable base for the stance, shoulders square to the target, and his free hand is wrapped around the grip of the pistol to provide a more secure grip.” He smiled, gestured the students back, and nodded to the other teacher. “Looking good there, Ianto,” the professor said as he moved away himself. “One more time?”

“Careful, sir,” Ianto said. There was a soft lilt to his voice. Even Draco, who had little experience with it, knew the man was flirting with his co-teacher. “That’s harassment.”

“That would mean something if you didn't enjoy the harassment so much, sir,” Draco snarked. He ducked and took a step back afterwards worried that he’d either be hit by Professor Harkness or have points deducted for interrupting the teachers.

“See, Ianto,” Professor Harkness called. He flung an arm over Draco’s shoulders and grinned merrily. “Even the young have you pegged.”

Draco tensed. He could help it. He could remember all too vividly what would follow his father’s touch to his shoulders. Without thinking of the consequences, he threw a desperate look at Hermione, silently begging for a rescue from his new friend.

“Yes, Tad,” she called over. “We all know how you feel.”

Draco watched, mouthing a quick thank you, as Professor Harkness moved the few feet necessary to wrap that same arm around Hermione’s shoulders in a quick hug. To his immense surprise, the professor took a moment to kiss her temple before nodding to the other professor. “Go on, Ianto, show them how it’s done.”

Draco watched intently as his cousin… no, his professor… reloaded his weapon before briskly firing it toward the targets set a few feet in front of everyone. A twitch of movement beside him drew his attention from the demonstration to see Harry easing up to him. He raised an eyebrow in query at the younger Slytherin.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry murmured. “I thought I was the only one disturbed by Professor Harkness doing that.”

“You aren’t,” Draco whispered. He turned his primary attention back to the demonstration, but something urged him to continue talking. The same inner voice, which was starting to sound amazingly like Professor Harkness, which told him to be wary of certain Slytherins. Wariness well founded when those students didn’t return to school this year instead being transferred to Durmstrang or pulled out of school completely as rumors of Voldemort’s return circulated among certain pureblood circles. “You definitely aren’t.”

“I like him,” Harry said quietly. “But the first time he laid a hand on my shoulder, I think I jumped a foot.”

“I just get tense.” Draco cast a look at Harry. He wasn’t certain why he wanted to talk, but the urge was there. “I expect to be hit or otherwise corrected when adult males do that.” He let out a tense breath and licked his lips. “After my eleventh birthday, I wasn’t even allowed to compliment my mother or be alone with her because she’s my father’s. I had to behave the part of a young adult male pureblood.”

“It has nothing to do with that,” Harry began. “It’s that the only time my uncle touched me was to slap me.” He looked over at Draco in shock as the other boy’s words fully sank into his mind. “Are you seriously telling me you can’t hug your mother?”

Draco looked up, saw that the students were being lined up at tables to introduce the gear on them and prepare to shoot. Reaching out, he dragged Harry along with him to the tables and pushed him to the one next to him. With half his attention on the lesson, he also answered Harry’s question. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Harry,” he replied. He twisted about to rest his hip on the table in front of him. “Touching my mother leads to… well, you don’t want to know what it leads to.” He shook his head, looked up and confirmed the next steps for lesson, and then looked over at Harry again. “Why do you think I don’t touch Pansy?”

“That is the stupidest thing!” Harry cried.

“Shh,” Draco hissed. “Don’t…”

“It’s the way a good breeder reduces crossbreeding and inbreeding,” Neville interrupted from where he’d been listening to the conversation from the other side of Harry. “But for humans, you can’t keep them segregated so you have to scare them into segregating themselves.”

“It’s why I was so startled when Mica first plopped herself in my lap,” Draco replied to Harry before leaning forward to look at Neville. “You’re really stuck on that breeding comparison, aren’t you, Neville?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco, you can’t tell me you really think that you would hurt a baby!”

“It makes sense,” Neville replied. “I went to the library and did some research into animal breeding and I’m sorry, but it’s almost a classic case.”

Draco blinked several times at Neville’s response. Before he answered that, he inclined his head to Harry. “I have no idea what to do with a child, Harry. The only interactions I’ve seen between siblings have been Weasley and her brother.” He shifted to look at Neville again. “I’d like to see those books.” He frowned as he reached for the ear protection on the table at a comment from Professor Jones. “Damn, I’m thinking,” he murmured.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Neville asked rhetorically. “I’ve been doing some of that myself.”

“Immensely,” Draco said. He smiled over at Neville though. “It seems everything I know is wrong, but I really don’t want it to be.”

“I remember when I found out what a shit my dad had been to Snape,” Harry added. “Turned my world upside down.”

“I don’t know about my father,” Draco said. He laid his ear protection down on the table and stepped over to fix Harry’s for him. “I really don’t, but I see that…” he paused and waved a hand over to where Professor Harkness was talking softly with Hermione. “How he is with her and Mica… and I wonder…” he trailed off again and shook his head. He returned to his own station, donned the ear protection and safety goggles, and picked up his weapon. “So, let’s do this?”

Harry and Neville laughed softly, repeating his actions, and nodded. “Yeah,” Harry said. “But this conversation is definitely not over.”

*** CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ***

Jack stood behind the firing line carefully watching the students fire their first shots at the targets. The Gryffindor girls for the most part seemed terrified of the noise, smell and action of the gun. For supposedly brave students, they were a joke. His eyes drifted down the line until he reached what was clearly the transition point between Gryffindor house and Slytherin house. The three Gryffindors closest to the Slytherins were also the best among them. Lavender Brown would fire a round, look at her boyfriend, and then repeat the cycle. Clearly she wanted to be certain her competence with the weapon pleased Ron Weasley who stood beside her. Jack was beginning to hate the attitude of the pureblood and half-blood girls.

Now Ron, Ron was good. Nearly as good as Draco, who was clearly the best shot in the class, but Jack could tell that Ron’s weapon wasn’t a pistol. He’d bet just about anything if he put a rifle in the boy’s hands his accuracy would increase exponentially. Jack barely managed to hide a smug smile as he considered the young man who was more than likely his first sniper for this child led army.

His gaze shifted over to the next young man in line. Neville Longbottom was a steady, competent shot. Jack watched the youngster shoot, counting his accuracy, and chuckled softly. While nowhere near as good a shot as Ron, and definitely not as good as Draco, Neville was a good steady shot with a calm confidence to him.

The boy next to him, well, he just caused Jack to shake his head tiredly. He knew he had to get Harry Potter competent with a pistol, if only to defend himself, but the boy was worse than Gwen when it came to shooting. He let his options with Harry simmer in the back of his mind as he shifted his attention to the young man beside Harry.

Draco Malfoy. The Prince of Slytherin himself. Jack was shocked by the young pureblood’s competence with the pistol. He was a natural with it. He had the instinctive grasp of how to use a gun that couldn’t be taught, only nurtured. Jack watched him shoot, mentally added up his score, and laughed freely. If he could actually get Draco into Torchwood, the kid would be giving him and Ianto a run for their money in accuracy and high scores.

Beyond Draco were the three remaining Slytherins. He already knew Hermione’s skills. She wasn’t fast, but she was accurate. He’d taught her himself years before, but with her being away eight months of the year, it was harder for her to maintain her skill. She was alternating firing and helping Pansy Parkinson with her shooting. Both girls were good and on nearly the same level just a bit below Neville in their scores.

The last of the Slytherins was Blaise Zabini. Now he was scary. Just watching him, he worried Jack. It wasn’t his accuracy, skill or anything Jack could really put a finger on, but Jack resolved to watch the young man closely. The Italian-born pureblood was hiding something. It was what he was hiding that Jack worried over.

“So what do you think?”

Jack shook his head but flashed a quick smile over at Ianto. “I think we can cut our personal class of fifth years down dramatically.” He nodded toward the cluster of girls on one end of the firing line. “Give the girls there to Tosh and Owen. Tosh can teach them hand-to-hand combat, so they can at least defend themselves competently while Owen finds out if any are good enough to learn basic medic skills. Maybe we can make a decent corpsman out of one or two of them.”

Both men turned toward the impromptu range when they heard Draco’s voice clearly cursing creatively in what sounded like French. As they watched, Draco laid his gun down, stepped behind Harry and reached around the other boy to correct Harry’s stance. Ianto raised an eyebrow as Draco talked Harry through how to shoot the pistol in nearly the exact same hands-on manner as Jack had done to Gwen two years previous.

“You know,” Ianto said softly. “If I didn’t know his parents personally, I’d say Draco was your son.” He chuckled softly as Jack gave him a smug smile. “You both teach shooting the exact same way.”

Jack was torn between chuckling himself and just smiling. “He is good,” he conceded. “But I think there’s a bit more to that then just teaching Mr. Potter how to handle a gun.” He gave Ianto a quick wink and nodded to the boys. He watched Ianto look over and see what he was seeing. Harry was now leaning back against Draco while Draco led him through the shooting exercise.

“Hmm.” Ianto nodded before sighing. “If we are seeing what we think we’re seeing, they won’t have it easy. Especially Draco. His father would disown him, assuming he doesn’t just beat him, use the _imperious_ curse on him and force him into marriage to continue the Malfoy lineage.”

“Is Lucius Malfoy really that much of a bastard?” Jack asked, shocked.

“Do you remember much about Goebbels?”

“The Propaganda minister?” Jack asked after a moment’s thought. “I remember him.”

“In many ways, Lucius Malfoy is Voldemort’s Goebbels.” Ianto thought for a moment then shook his head. “If Voldemort was smart, he would have left Lucius unmarked and used him as his public face both in and out of the ministry.”

Jack thought for several minutes before nodding. “At least Voldemort isn’t smart,” Jack agreed. “Arrogant men are easier to defeat. They make stupid mistakes.”

“True.” Ianto looked back at the range and sighed. “Draco’s in a really shitty position, Jack. We have to make certain he knows he has a way out, if he wants to take it.”

“Already working on it,” Jack agreed. “But on the notion of our class, I want us to continue to train Malfoy, Parkinson, Brown, Longbottom, Weasley, Zabini, and Potter.” He laughed at Ianto’s affronted look. “Hermione’s a given, love.” He crossed his arms and watched the kids for a bit before continuing. “We’re keeping Zabini because he’s up to something. What I don’t know, but I want him where I can keep an eye on him. Potter has to be taught. The rest are the best of this bunch though I’d like to try something with the Weasley boy.”

“What’s that?” Ianto considered the youngest male Weasley for a moment. “He’s almost as good as Draco…”

“He is, but watch,” Jack ordered. “See how he takes his shots, the long careful time aiming before firing and the way he almost holds his breath as he pulls the trigger?” He looked over at Ianto for a moment before looking back at Ron. “I think if I put a rifle in his hands, gave him a bit of training, he’d be an excellent sniper.”

Ianto watched, silent, for several minutes. He assessed the students Jack named and agreed with the Captain’s assessment. They’d keep them and send the rest off to Tosh and Owen from now on. The kids they were keeping were likely going to be cursing their names before too much longer. “If you think he can do it, than try it,” he finally said to Jack after careful thought. Ianto clapped his hands together to get the students attention. “Alright everyone, guns on the tables and come over here. A few announcements and then we’ll sort you out for the last hour of class.”

*** CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ***

Jack leant back against the rock behind him and watched Mica scamper about the field in front of them picking the last of the wildflowers clinging to life against the nightly Scottish frost. He smiled at her before looking down at Ianto. He threaded his fingers through his lover’s hair and chuckled softly. “Is this what life is like for the average family?” he asked softly. “Outside of Torchwood, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ianto murmured. The majority of his focus was on Mica. He barely refrained from laughing as she darted away from Mipsy whose turn it was to watch her. The poor house elf was being run ragged by her charge. “I went from one school to another to Torchwood. I never had moments like this…” Ianto broke off to yawn widely. “Even when I was in school.”

“We’ll have to make time for some,” Jack said. He kept up the idle petting and hoped Ianto would drift off to sleep. In the last week, since they’d started teaching the upper years to shoot, the young man’s nightmares had come back with a vengeance. Ianto wasn’t sleeping well at all which caused Jack to worry about him. “We do have that lovely park across from the house to take advantage of.”

“Part of why you want two teams, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Jack chuckled softly. “You caught me.” He reconfirmed where Mica was and laughed gaily. Poor longsuffering Draco once again had a lapful of their daughter. “Why is our youngest so fascinated by Draco?”

“Dunno,” Ianto said. “She likes his hair. Seems to think he’s pretty.” He yawned again. “I think she’s doing more of your work for you...” He lazily lifted an arm and pointed toward the other boy where the usual suspects, as he and Jack had taken to calling the combined group of Slytherins and Gryffindors which had formed around Hermione, joined Draco and Mica under the trees. “Once again the students are talking.”

“So they are.” Jack shook his head just a bit before bending down to kiss Ianto. “If I wasn’t worried about the panic attack Draco would likely have, I’d take advantage of our unintentional babysitters there and take you back to our rooms.”

The sound of rustling leaves from behind them caused both men to momentarily tense. A soft feminine throat clearing followed by Ginny Weasley’s now familiar soprano had them relaxing again. Jack looked up and back to see Ginny accompanied by a slighter girl with long hair of an even lighter blonde than Draco smiling uncertainly at them.

“Excuse me, Professors,” Ginny asked. Her voice was tentative and shook just a bit. “Could we join you for just a few minutes?”

Ianto looked up at Jack for a moment before looking over at the young women. “Of course,” he said. He shifted a bit in an attempt to sit up but settled back down with his head in Jack’s lap as his lover pressed against his shoulder with a murmured, ‘off duty, Ianto.’ “Is anything the matter?”

"Yes.” Ginny plopped herself down on the blanket opposite Jack and leant forward to stare intently at the two men. “I know that it is important to get Harry and his friends trained. I mean, they're going to have to do most of the fighting. But Voldemort is not going to ignore the rest of us.”

“You’re too young, Miss Weasley,” Ianto said softly. “Enjoy being a child for a little while longer.”

“Voldemort is not going to let me.” Ginny turned her fiercest look on the two men. “Once he comes against Hogwarts, we’re all going to have to fight.”

“If we do this right, he won’t be coming here.” Ianto shifted onto his side to better talk to Ginny. “We’ll stop him before he can.”

“And what if you can’t?” Ginny demanded. “Or what if he attacks my family directly? There are some pureblood families that have always opposed him. He hates us with a passion.”

“I know,” Ianto conceded. “But your family is protected by the Order. You know that. I know that. And he knows that.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “He’d be a fool to attack the Weasleys.”

“Tell that to Harry. His family was protected by _fidelius_ and by Dumbledore. It didn’t stop him.”

“There was more to that attack then just those protections. We both know that as well." He sighed tiredly and shoved a hand through his hair. "And I really don't want to have to deal with your mother."

“Professor Harkness, did you find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in your cupboard?"

"No, but I have one in Cardiff.” Jack laughed gaily. He knew the girl was trying for a distraction before Ianto and Ginny descended into open verbal warfare. An attack on someone’s mother, even an implied one, often led to that. “It came through the Rift a while back.”

“Oh,” she said. She actually sounded a bit disappointed to know he had one. “Is it true that it hates people?”

“Sometimes... "Jack trailed off and considered her. He really wanted to know more about this overly thin, fae blonde who knew the name of one of the nastier critters from his native planet. “I know where you can find something equally amazing. Want to come look?" He eased from beneath Ianto, rose and offered her a hand. “Who are you again?"

"Luna,” she said as she let him pull her up from the blanket. “Luna Lovegood."

Jack blinked in surprise as he stared at her. "Luna Lovegood...” he repeated with the faintest of stutters. “Right. Come'n then."

"Great,” Ianto muttered. “I’ve been abandoned.” He sat up, crossed his legs tailor-fashion and leant forward over them to consider Ginny. “So, what do you want?”

“Look, Professor,” Ginny began earnestly. “I know you don’t like me…”

“It’s not you I don’t like,” Ianto snapped. “It’s your family, Miss Weasley.”

“Then why am I ‘Miss Weasley’?” she retorted. “Outside of class, everyone else is first names.”

Ianto stared at her for a moment. He couldn’t believe her. She was just as demanding as her mother was. He struggled to his feet and stalked a few steps away to stare over at his youngest daughter. Some vengeful portion of his soul hoped to all the goddesses that Mica would never attend school with a Weasley. Maybe she’d have a decent time of it. He should send her to Beauxbatons where he could be certain of that being the case. He twisted a bit to look over his shoulder at the youngest Weasley. “Do you want me to be blunt?”

“Of course,” Ginny replied. “If that gets to the truth of why you don’t like me.”

“It’s not you I don’t like,” Ianto repeated harshly. “It’s your family.” He shoved his hand through his hair and sighed. “I have a lot of bitterness toward your family. So I teach you in class and tolerate you and Ron outside of it for the sake of my daughter.”

“Why?” Ginny asked. “I’ve spent the last few weeks looking into your history with the Weasleys. I’m getting a lot of ‘mind your own business’ from my brothers. The twins are avoiding me and Ron doesn’t know squat. So you tell me.”

“The twins likely don't know. Percy might have told you, if you asked him.” He shoved a hand through his hair and slowly turned around to face her again. “It's not you personally, Miss Weasley. It's your mother and older siblings.”

“So tell me,” Ginny snapped angrily. “If I'm to think for myself, I need information. Isn't that what you teach?"

“Throw our own methods back at us.” He chuckled bitterly. “It is. Bill gave me his word _as a Weasley_ that he wouldn't tell anyone the results of our test of the lineage potion. Yet as soon as we got back to the dorms, he told Charlie who told both your mother and everyone else in Gryffindor who I really was." He sighed softly. Those memories, that betrayal, still stung so much even after a decade. "So after three years of being treated as a son by your mother,” he paused for a moment to calculate her age. “I think you were too young to remember those visits by me. I was suddenly a vicious liar and little better than scum. Even sent me a howler about it."

“And the Quidditch thing?” Ginny asked. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He knew she was part of the Gryffindor team, so Ianto knew she truly wanted to know the answer.

“Two days after I talked to Severus about becoming a Slytherin, I was resorted. Two days after that," Ianto swallowed. "Charlie was named Gryffindor Seeker.” He stared hard at the girl. No, that was wrong. She was a young woman. A girl wouldn’t have stood up to him like this. “The position I held until that fateful potions class. I never played Quidditch again."

“Thank you, professor,” she said quietly. “That's what I needed to know. I won't approach you again. I'm sure your... Professor Harkness can teach us what we need to learn.”

Ianto considered her for a long silent moment. He watched the way she rose slowly to her feet. Her shoulders slumped as she stood there. He could see she was struggling to control her emotions. Ianto watched her start to walk away from him. “Ginevra?" he called softly after her.

She looked back over her shoulder. "Yes, Professor?" While her face gave nothing away, the glimmer of hope in her eyes told a different story.

“You do know I'm the better shot then Jack?" He gave her a tentative smile. "I can get you caught up faster than he can."

“Luna, too?” Ginny asked hopefully. The smile which appeared on her face could have rivaled the sun appearing from behind Cardiff storm clouds.

“Luna, too,” Ianto conceded willingly. He pointed a finger at her. “But not the rest of the fourth years. The plan calls for them to lead the younger bunch away, if we get attacked here.”

“They will at least need to defend themselves,” Ginny retorted. “Just in case.”

“Don't push too far, Ginevra.” He shook his head at her. She was stubborn enough to keep pushing if he didn’t give her a bit of something. “Without giving things away as the situation isn't trustworthy, they will know how to defend themselves, just not on the same terms as you, Luna or the select group of fifth years Jack and I are teaching.”

“All right,” Ginny nodded and grinned. “I'm going to trust you, Cousin Black.”

Ianto laughed gaily. "You do know I could call you that, too?" He tugged out his wand and waved it at the picnic things to vanish them back to the kitchens. “Let’s totally panic Draco. If I can still find it, I believe we can use the Room of Requirement to start getting you caught up.”

“Should we get Luna?”

Ianto nodded as they started walking. “Oh, that’s easy enough to do.” He stilled for a moment, reached up and pressed his comm. “Jack? Could you send Luna to meet Ginevra and I at the castle entrance?”

*** CHAPTER NINETEEN ***

Draco shifted Mica closer to his body as the afternoon turned to dusk. She’d fallen asleep in his lap not long after her rather dramatic entrance to the combined Gryffindor/Slytherin study session. Her head rested on his shoulder while she slept. He’d scooted backwards until he could lean back against a tree. Once there he’d just shifted her a bit, grabbed his book up, and continued quizzing Hermione for their upcoming Ancient Runes exam. It wasn’t the first time, and Draco was certain it wouldn’t be the last time, the toddler insisted on sitting on him. He tugged his robes around to cover her up a bit. As the light faded, a chill breeze was coming off the lake. Draco had honestly expected one of the professors to come claim their daughter by now. He started discretely scanning the lake area for either of the men yet they were nowhere to be found. “Hermione,” he hissed. “Where are your parents?”

“Picnicking by the lake,” she replied without looking away from the notes on her lap.

“No, they aren’t.” Draco wadded up a piece of scrap parchment and threw it at his cousin. “Cousin!” he snapped. “Look around you. It’s coming up on dark. We all need to get inside and I have no idea where your fathers are to give them back your sister.”

“Calm down,” Harry said. The other man reached over and rubbed Draco’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just take her back to the common room with us. The professors know she’s with you…”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Draco repeated the denial over and over in a panic. “We can’t take her into Slytherin, Harry,” he snapped. “They’ll eat her for dinner or something.”

“They aren’t really snakes, for God’s sake,” Harry said. “She’s Hermione’s baby sister. She’ll be safe.”

“You know nothing about Slytherins!” Draco wrapped his arms around Mica and cuddled her against his chest. “I’m not taking her into that… that…” he trailed off in frustration unable to come up with a good word or phrase to describe the common room without being completely vulgar in front of the child. He settled on trying to explain the situation to the muggle-raised Harry. “She's a pureblood, Harry. An unclaimed, very wealthy pureblood little girl who knows nothing about our customs. They could do all kinds of things to her!"

"She is not unclaimed,” Harry said slowly. He spoke as if he was speaking to a child of Mica’s age and not the teenaged Prince of Slytherin. “She is the daughter of a Lestrange and a Parkinson. Neither Pansy nor you could let anything happen to her. Or Neville, for that matter. Isn't he related to all of you somehow? Not to mention Hermione or I, for different reasons."

Draco thought about that for a moment while gathering his books together into his bag. “Let's see,” he muttered. “She's Pansy's direct cousin. My second cousin via Aunt Bellatrix. Neville's... hmm... a third cousin twice removed, I think... and you're a bit more distant than that." He thought a bit more while slinging his bag over his shoulder. "And the scariest witch in the school is her sister..."

“See? It'll be fine.”

“If anything, _anything_ , happens to my si…” Draco broke off abruptly. “Mica,” he finished. “Harry, I’m blaming you!”

“Hey, isn’t she related to the Weasley’s, too?” Harry asked. He was grinning from ear to ear at the scene before him. “Through the Black side of the family?”

Draco made a soft hum of agreement. “Yes, she is. Second cousin, twice removed to Ginny and Ron.” He stared hard at Harry. “Why are you grinning at me like someone cursed you with a cheering charm?"

“She's got you, Draco,” Harry replied smugly. “That little girl's got you by the short hairs.”

“Harry!” Draco snapped. He turned his coldest, most haughty glare on the ex-Gryffindor. “You don't say such things in front of Mica!"

“Baaby, shes' got you baaby...”

“Come’n you.” Draco reached over and smacked the back of Harry’s head. He had no idea what Harry was singing at him, a state of confusion he was clearly sharing with Ron and Neville, but the girls and Blaise apparently knew from their nearly hysterical laughter. The girls were laughing so hard they were actually rolling on the grass. “We need to get her inside before it starts getting any colder.”

“All right, big brother, let's get her inside,” Harry conceded. “She's going to be hungry soon anyway.”

Pouting, Draco rose to his feet using the tree behind him for leverage. "I told you I don't have any...” he trailed off at a soft sound from Mica. He looked at the girl he was holding in his arms. She pouted back at him. Draco sighed heavily and didn’t bother to complete his protest. He just started stepping over the laughing Slytherins. “Right, let’s go.”

Once he’d escaped the study group, Draco shifted his bag into a better position on his shoulder. He started walking toward the castle while thinking hard on how Professor Harkness carried his daughter. He stopped for a moment to shift her over to his side while shoving his robe back out of the way. With her resting on his hip, arms and legs wrapped around him like she always did with her father, he started walking again. He looked back at his friends. “Well, come on,” he called. “I’m not waiting on you all.”

“I got Draco!” Mica crowed. “I got Draco!”

“Yes, you do,” Draco murmured. He rolled his eyes when Harry joined him, still laughing and singing about him being ‘gotten’. So what if the toddler had him wrapped around her little finger? As long as his father never found out that he cared for the little Lestrange heiress, everything was fine. Everything was perfectly fine. He smiled at the little girl he carried before looking beyond her to where Harry had joined them for the return trek to the castle. He shook his head at Harry’s antics and pressed a gentle kiss to Mica’s temple. “But don't say that so loudly, hmm?"

*** CHAPTER TWENTY ***

Tossing his robe and schoolbag on the sofa beside Harry, Draco settled on the floor in front of it. He leant back and sighed softly as the former Gryffindor ran a hand through his hair. He grunted when Mica dropped into his lap but automatically hugged her before tugging her back to rest against his chest. He considered the little girl for a moment before giving in to an impulse. Pulling out his wand, he handed it to her. “Want to learn a charm?”

“Uh huh,” Mica replied. She twisted back to grin at him and nearly poked his eye out with his own wand. “Gonna be a witch just like you!”

“I’m a wizard,” Draco corrected. He wrapped his hand around Mica’s and summoned one of Hermione’s quills from where the girl had spread her study materials out on the floor before the fireplace. He set it in front of him and Mica and leant about to smile at the toddler. “Now, first you need to learn the words.”

“Kay.”

“Now, can you say this?” he murmured. He absently kissed Mica’s temple before slowly saying the very first charm every first year learns. “Win-GAR-dee-um lev-ee-OH-sa.” He chuckled softly at her attempts repeating it for her until she started to get the words right.

“Draco!” The hissed words came from above him. He didn’t bother to look up. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping Mica busy,” he replied absently before slowly guiding Mica’s hand in the pattern of the charm. “To do the charm, its swish and flick while saying the words. Can you do that?” He let of her hand to see if she could do it.

“Swish… flick…” Mica muttered. Her wand movements were a bit jerky, but no more so than Ron’s had been four years before. “Then say the words…” She looked back at Draco. “Right?”

“Yep,” Draco grinned at her. “Now point the wand at the feather and do it.”

“Kay.” Mica’s face grew serious. She had the same blank expression as her father, Professor Jones, got when he was being serious. She pointed the wand at the feather, repeated the movements again and sternly said, “Wingardium Leviosa!” The feather jerked and rose a bit. Mica bounced, causing Draco to grunt softly, and crowed, “I did it!”

“Yes, you did.” Draco grinned at her even as he wrapped an arm around her to keep her still. “Now,” he said wrapping a hand over hers to murmur a finite, “you need to do it again.”

“Teaching magic to a mudblood bastard.” The growled words echoed through the common room. “What is Slytherin coming to?”

Draco felt Mica tense in his lap as he saw Hermione draw in a breath and straighten out of the corner of his eye. He gave her a quick head shake before kissing Mica’s temple again. “Don’t worry, _petite_ ,” he murmured. “I’m your brother which makes you as pureblooded as them. I’m going to take care of you.” He laughed softly. “They’re just jealous that you learned it faster than them. Now, do it again for me.”

Draco worked slowly with Mica. She wasn’t quite able to get his wand to work for her. Hermione’s, after a quick trial, didn’t work at all. The toddler had so much power Draco really didn’t want her to be frustrated and block herself. Thinking for a moment, he leant his head back to rest against Harry’s thigh and smiled up at his roommate. “Harry, _cher_ , can I borrow your wand for a moment? I want to see if it works better for Mica then mine or Hermione’s.”

“Course,” Harry murmured. He handed the wand to Draco before brushing his fingers over the boy’s forehead to brush a long blonde forelock back. “You’re good with her.”

“She’s easy to teach,” Draco replied. He twisted about to hand Harry’s wand to Mica to try when a disgusted voice interrupted his work with her.

“So, Draco, are you and Potter going to produce another mudblood like her?"

Before Draco could do more than straighten his back, Harry had risen from the sofa to stand between Draco and the remaining sixth and seventh years gathered beyond the fireplace seating area which the fifth years had claimed as theirs months before at the start of school. “Just what are you insinuating?” he demanded of them. “Come on, coward, step out and say it to our faces.”

“Harry,” Draco said quietly. “Ignore them.” He set Mica on her feet then shifted up to kneel behind her. “They’re ignorant idiots unwilling to think for themselves.”

Harry twisted a bit to look down at his friend. He smiled softly at Mica as the teary-eyed little girl silently offered him his wand back. “I don’t allow anyone to insult my friends…” he paused for a moment to rest a hand on Mica’s head. “Or my family.”

Draco stared up at Harry for a long moment. He searched the boy’s eyes and saw far too much in their green depths. Determination, protection, loyalty and something else, something he didn’t dare name at all but looked suspiciously like the affection he would see in looks between Professors Jones and Harkness. He swallowed hard, tugged Mica closer to him to comfort her, and nodded an acknowledgement of Harry’s declaration.

Harry smiled. He shifted his hand from Mica’s hair to grip Draco’s shoulder for a moment. He squeezed gently before releasing the Slytherin and turning his attention to the sixth and seventh years. “Now, I’m waiting…” As Harry watched the Slytherins, with studied casualness, began to scatter back to their studies; however, all movement stilled when Draco’s voice, clear and unusually formal, echoed from behind him.

“Habeo dicere,” Draco said. He turned Mica to face him and cupped her cheek in his hand using his thumb to wipe away her tears. “Vos es soror germana mea, ego sum frater germanus tuus.”

“Accipio et obtesto,” Neville’s voice cracked across the silence that fell after Draco’s voice died away. His words were echoed, in chorus, by both Blaise and Hermione.

All the Slytherins stared at Draco as he first nodded to Neville and Blaise before rising with Mica in his arms. He handed the toddler to a closely watching Hermione. “Watch _our_ sister, please, while I take care of this,” he half-ordered, half-asked the older girl. He waited for her nod, leant forward and kissed both her and Mica’s cheeks before stepping over to join Harry. “I believe Harry wanted to know which of you insulted Mica and me.”

When no response came, Draco nodded. He scanned the group, the standoff tense and hostile, until his gaze settled on Graham Montague. Montague was a sixth year, current captain of the Quidditch team, and one of the students Draco suspected of being a Death Eater acolyte. Draco held his gaze for a long silent moment before giving a single brisk nod. “As I have my sisters to protect, I’m resigning from the team.”

The other boy inclined his head in acknowledgement. Draco nodded formally back before reaching down for his robes. Pulling them on, he waved his wand to not only gather up all of the study things but to send them to the fifth years rooms where they’d be safe from tampering. Whirling about, he smiled at Hermione and held his hands out to take Mica. The little girl easily made the transfer from one teen to the other. Again, he kissed her cheek before smiling at Hermione. “Let’s get Mica back to your fathers,” he said.

“Our fathers,” Hermione corrected in a whisper. She flashed a quick smile at his bewildered look, grabbed her own robe and started for the door. “We can head down to the feast from their quarters. They’re likely back there now.”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ***

Ianto stepped into the sitting room after teaching Ginevra and Luna and smiled at the scene before him. Jack was settled comfortably on the sofa with one leg stretched out along the front while the other was bent against the back of the sofa. Ianto shucked his robes and tossed them over the back of an armchair. His jacket and tie soon followed. Toeing off his shoes, he padded across the room to stand beside the sofa. Ianto ran his fingers through Jack’s hair and tugged lightly to get the other man to tilt his head back. Then he bent down and kissed his lover. Slowly, thoroughly kissed Jack before allowing Jack to tug him down onto the sofa. Ianto laughed softly as Jack groaned while he settled into his usual place in front of Jack. Jack’s arms came around him and tugged him back a bit so that Ianto was resting against his chest with his head tucked in the hollow of Jack’s shoulder. “It’s awfully quiet,” Ianto murmured. “Where’s our baby?”

“According to Mipsy, Mica’s with Hermione and the Slytherins in their common room,” Jack replied. He rested his cheek on Ianto’s hair and breathed deep of the combination of Ianto’s natural scent and gunpowder. “Which means that I can take advantage of you before we have to go down to the feast,” he purred while sliding a hand down Ianto’s chest.

Ianto chuckled, the sound dissolving into a low throaty moan when Jack’s hand massaged his cock through his trousers. He reached down and captured Jack’s wrist. “We can’t,” he panted out. “They could bring her back anytime…” Ianto’s voice broke as Jack twisted free to massage and squeeze his cock. “Hermione knows how to counter any locking spell I could do.”

“So,” Jack growled into Ianto’s neck. He craned about to kiss his lover. “Hang your tie from the doorknob when you lock up,” he said between kisses and soft bites to Ianto’s neck. “She’s a smart girl. She’ll know what it means.”

“Jack,” Ianto whined. “I couldn’t look her in… oh, fuck, do that again…”

Jack laughed and took his hands away from Ianto. “Lock the door and I’ll do that,” he purred into Ianto’s ear. “And a whole lot more.”

“Bastard,” Ianto snarled. He adjusted his trousers, rose awkwardly to his feet, and started for the door. He grabbed both tie and wand along the way. Wrapping the tie around the outer doorknob, he slammed it shut, murmured a locking spell and tossed his wand on a nearby table. “Now get over here and finish what you started.”

“As you wish,” Jack said as he rose from the sofa. He stalked over to Ianto and pressed the other man into the door with his body. He ground their hips together and sank his fingers into Ianto’s hair to hold him still for a demanding kiss. “Bedroom?”

“No, here…” Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and murmured a spell which efficiently stripped them. “I’m pretty good at certain wandless magics.”

“So I see.” Jack leant forward and nipped Ianto’s pulse. “I’m not the only one who can cheat at naked hide-n-seek, am I?” he purred. He slid a hand down Ianto’s chest and curled his fingers around the young man’s straining erection. He pumped his fist a few times, delighting in Ianto’s increasingly loud moans, and started kissing his way down Ianto’s chest. He paused at his lover’s nipples, tonguing and biting the bits of flesh until they were hard straining peaks, before continuing lower to run his tongue up the underside of Ianto’s cock.

He settled himself comfortably on his knees. He needed this, craved the taste of Ianto, and repeated the long leisurely lick of heated flesh before wrapping his hand around the shaft to hold Ianto steady while he sucked the head into his mouth. Jack hummed softly, his tongue lapping eagerly at the first drops of pre-come leaking from Ianto’s cock, and slowly tightened the grip of his fingers before stroking down the throbbing length. His mouth followed his hand until he could nuzzle his nose into Ianto’s pubic hair and breathe deep of the other man’s natural musk. Closing his eyes, Jack swallowed and sucked hard as he pulled back before repeating the downward motion. He wanted to hear… feel… taste… Ianto come undone for him long before he buried his own cock deep in his lover’s body.

“Oh fuck!” Ianto gasped out. His head thumped back against the door behind him. He’d not felt like this in so damned long. Not had Jack’s attention focused so intently on him since the night before Tommy returned to 1918. “Feels so good, Jack… take me deep again… fuck, yes!” Ianto groaned hoarsely as Jack’s throat closed around the head of his cock, muscles working against his flesh, and panted in a struggle to keep control. “Just like that…”

Ianto dropped his hands, dug his fingers into Jack’s hair and clung. He dropped his head forward to stare down at his lover. Another deep moan caught in his chest as when his eyes met Jack’s. The blue of those eyes lost to black, blown with lust, as they stared up at him. “God, Jack,” he murmured. “You look so damned hot with my cock in your mouth. Wanna fuck you like this, come down your throat and make you swallow every drop.” The words were a coarse whisper. Ianto half-groaned, half-sighed when Jack all but grinned around his cock; the other man’s moan shredded his control. He flung his head back again and bucked his hips, thrusting deep into Jack’s mouth while his lover licked, sucked and teased until he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Gonna come, Jack…”

A soft deep moan accompanied by a harder suck to just the head of his cock was the answer Ianto received. He bucked his hips. A strangled scream catching in his throat as his orgasm crashed through is system. Ianto leant limply against the door, only Jack’s hands on his hips and his own on Jack’s shoulders kept him upright. He barely had a moment to catch his breath before Jack was pulling him down onto the floor and rolling him beneath the older man.

“Want you,” Jack growled into Ianto’s ear. “Gonna fuck you hard and deep.” He reached back to his clothes, rummaged in a pocket until he found the lube and quickly coated his fingers. Jack pressed one inside Ianto, twisting and stroking, until he felt Ianto start to rock back into the thrusts of his fingers. He added a second, forcing a startled cry from the younger man, and forced himself to talk. “The silencing spell… you cast it?… cause I want to hear you scream…”

“Hell… fuck… Jaacck…” Ianto keened. He rose up onto his hands and knees in order to fuck back onto the fingers Jack pressed deep into him. “No… I…”

“Do it, Ianto,” Jack ordered. “Cast the spell. I know you likely can do that one without the wand.” He added a third finger and deliberately stroked Ianto’s prostate with them.

“Uh huh.” Ianto shook his head, his whole body shaking as Jack quickly brought him back to a state of full arousal. He forced himself to concentrate, struggling to remember the spell, and finally all but screamed it. “ _Muffliato_ … Now, fuck me, Jack!”

Jack’s reply wasn’t verbal. Instead, it was a hard clasp of Ianto’s hips and a single deep thrust to seat his cock balls deep in his young lover. He stilled and gritted his teeth against the urge to thrust determined to give Ianto a moment to adjust to the penetration. Finally, Ianto arched his back and pressed backward into Jack. The movement, combined with the tight clasp of Ianto’s muscles around his cock, was Jack’s undoing. He began to thrust, hard driving strokes deep into Ianto’s body. He shifted his angle to ensure every thrust struck his partner’s prostate, determined to get him off again, make him scream for him.

For several minutes there were no sounds in the room but the slap of flesh against flesh, heated cries and begging whimpers. Ianto shifted forward, dropping his head and shoulders, and submitted completely to Jack’s forceful thrusts. Something nagged at his mind, something he’d forgotten to do, but his thoughts were too fogged with lust, need and want to have any semblance of coherency. “Jack… Jack… come in me, Jack… want to feel you…”

“Yes!” Jack hissed. He leant down over Ianto and reached around to grasp his cock. He roughly fisted Ianto in time to his hard strokes into the younger man until he heard that hitch in Ianto’s breath, the building scream that signaled his orgasm, and took his hand away to grasp Ianto’s hips and pound even harder into him. Ianto’s scream of pleasure mingled with his own as their orgasms came nearly simultaneously. Jack collapsed onto Ianto and panted for breath. Finally, long minutes later, he eased away to flop on his back on the floor.

Stretching out an arm, Jack tugged Ianto over to him and urged him to rest his head on Jack’s chest. He carded his fingers through Ianto’s hair and craned his neck to press a kiss to Ianto’s forehead. “I didn’t hurt you?” he asked tiredly.

“Nope,” Ianto lifted his head a bit to give Jack a cheeky grin. “Just exhausted me. Need a nap now.”

“Hmm…” Jack yawned. “Me, too.” He pressed Ianto’s head back down, both of them drifting lazily in a post-coital haze, which broke when the distinctive pop of a house elf’s apparition echoed in the room.

“Sirs?” Mipsy’s voice sounded above them. Both men groaned in response. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sirs, but Libby reported a change to the family tapestry. We thought you should know right away.”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ***

Tucking his shirt into his trousers, Ianto reentered the sitting room and smiled as he watched Jack clearing off the large table the two of them used as a desk. A knock at the door distracted Ianto from his intent watching of Jack’s arse as his lover bent and stretched across the table to move the last of the parchments off it. They needed the space to look at the family tapestry. When the knock repeated, more insistently, Ianto rolled his eyes, stalked over and removed the spells on the door. Jerking the door open, he glared at those on the other side of the door.

“Oh, sorry,” Ianto muttered as he realized who was knocking so urgently on the other side of the door. Trying for nonchalance, he retrieved his tie from the knob and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

Tosh, then Owen stepped into the room. To Ianto’s surprise, the other two Torchwood members were wearing formal dress robes. He raised an eyebrow at their appearance, but just waved them over to where Jack was waiting by the table. “Just remember who gives you your physical,” Owen growled over Jack’s chuckles. “Besides, McGonagall showed up with them, said it was a party and we had to look the part or something. She’s nearly as scary as Tosh.

Jack laughed harder before settling on a grin. “I don’t have to wear them,” he retorted.

“Err, Jack,” Ianto nodded his head toward where two sets of robes appeared draped over the back of the sofa. “I think the headmistress is expecting us to dress as well.”

“Still not wearing them,” Jack replied. “They asked for our help, so they get me.” He held his arms out to either side and nodded to his forties inspired attire.

Crossing the room, Ianto leant against the table beside Jack. “I think you would look sexy in them,” he murmured into Jack’s ear.

“No,” Jack retorted. He pressed a quick chaste kiss to Ianto’s lips. “Now, don’t we have other things to worry about?”

“Oh, all right,” Ianto replied with a slight pout. He had really wanted to see Jack in traditional wizarding dress robes. “Mipsy!” he called. “Bring the tapestry, please.”

While they waited for the house elf to return with the requested tapestry, they made small talk, mostly about the students, their skill levels and ways of adapting Torchwood induction lessons to the wizarding world. Ianto was hard pressed not to laugh as he listened to his friend’s complaints about the pureblood students and their attitudes about the lessons. It was times like these when he was tempted to see if Remus Lupin was available to return and teach magical defense while they concentrated on muggle defense.

A pop and a soft thud from behind them interrupted the conversation. All of them turned to watch as Mipsy and Libby unrolled a piece of fabric across the table. Jack grinned happily and bounced over to the table. “Come look,” he called back to the others while nodding to the elves. “This is the official tapestry of the House of Torchwood.”

“The what?” Owen’s bewilderment was clear in his voice, but he still rose to his feet, helped Tosh up and joined Jack at the table.

“It’s the family tapestry.” Ianto followed the others over. “A wizarding genealogy. I created it this summer just after Jack and I moved in together. He called it the House of Torchwood.” He shrugged and almost laughed before continuing, “But with the ministry it’s the Harkness-Jones Family Tapestry.”

“My name’s on it!” Tosh’s excited voice interrupted Ianto. “But how…”

“Of course you are,” Jack said. He wrapped an arm around Toshiko’s shoulders and squeezed. “All of you are. Though for some reason it insisted on making you Ianto’s cousin rather than one of the kids.”

“It thinks for itself?”

“Yes,” Ianto answered. He circled the table to stand on the opposite side so he could see the whole thing while he explained how family tapestries worked. “It’s not completely sentient, not as Torchwood defines the term, but it is self-maintaining. The initial spells for the creation of a family tapestry not only give it that but connects it to the family members of the creators.” He smiled and ran a finger along the edge of the tapestry. “Ours is a bit odd as it is a matriarchal tree rather than the usual patriarchal ones. It traces descent from and relationship to Jack.”

“So, Jack is my mother?” Owen snarked.

“No,” Ianto snapped. He smacked the back of the medic’s head. “He’s your older brother. He’s Gwen’s dad. See?” He pointed at the appropriate spots on the tapestry. “Here’s Tosh as my cousin. You’re here as Jack’s younger brother and then there’s the kids. Jack’s daughters, our Hermione, my Mica,” he trailed off for a moment before almost squeaking, “and Draco?”

“As in Draco Malfoy?” Tosh asked as she leant down close to the tapestry.

“Looks it,” Jack confirmed. “Draco Peregrine. Who curses their child with that for a name?”

“Don’t knock it, Jack,” Ianto snapped. “It’s a perfectly normal name for a child related to the Blacks.”

“So where are you, Ianto?”

Ianto rolled his eyes at Owen, reached across the table and firmly tapped the spot by Jack’s name at the base of the tree. “Here,” he said. “Sarin Iohannes Lestrange. That’s me.” He ran his finger along a small branch coming from his name. “And this is my daughter, Mica Adara. It’s a Black family tradition to name children after stars or constellations.”

“All right, Ianto,” Owen nodded. “I think I’ll just keep calling you Ianto, all right?” He smiled at his friend and nodded to the tapestry. “So why do you have an extra kid? It should be Mica, Hermione, and Gwen, right? Why Draco Malfoy?”

“Actually,” Jack drawled softly. “My other two daughters are on here too.” He pointed to their branches on the tree. “Alice, her son Stephen, and Monica and then Gwen with her fiancé Rhys, Hermione and Mica. I’m not sure how Draco got on here.”

Ianto considers for a long moment then reached over for his wand. He cast a brief diagnostic spell. He considered the results and felt his eyebrow meet his hairline. “I didn’t think anyone knew how to do that,” he muttered while banishing the results of the spell.

“Name himself your son, you mean?” Tosh asked.

“A bit more complicated than that,” Ianto replied. “He named himself Mica’s brother apparently, which links him to us through her.” He stared down at the tapestry for a moment. “I don’t think he knows all of what he did.”

“I don’t think you should tell him,” Tosh said after a moment’s thought. She looked up at Ianto across the tapestry. “Before you ask, he’s had a lot of changes in a short time. He needs to adjust to it all.”

Ianto nodded, humming thoughtfully, and smiled at Jack. He could see that gleam of paternal pride in his lover’s eyes as the older man stared at the tapestry while his fingers traced Draco’s name where it was embroidered. “All right, but…”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Owen said quietly, “but I need to ask you something, Ianto.” He looked up from where he was tracing Mica’s branch of the family tree. “You know me, I don't much care whose kid is whose as long as I get the medical history straight, but I really need to know. Who is Mica's mother?”

Ianto stared at the medic for several long minutes. Then he looked first to Tosh then to Jack before dropping his gaze to the tapestry. “If you mean who carried her,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I am.”

“Um…” Owen’s voice conveyed his shock clearly. “That’s a wizard thing, not a Jack-contagion thing, right?"

"Yes,” Ianto murmured. He flushed, knew he was as red as his shirt, but also knew Owen did need to know the truth. Still, he didn’t look up from the tapestry, not wanting to see their disgust that he was a ‘freak’. “It's very, very rare and never talked about in 'polite circles', but some wizards in certain lineages can carry."

“Then who is the other parent?” Owen asked before cutting over any reply Ianto could have made. “No, never mind. Do you know who the other parent is?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, she was..." He trailed off for a moment. It was so hard to talk about his daughter like this. Finally he took a deep breath and began again. "Mica is the only surviving product of an experiment London was doing. Lisa discovered she was mine and with her help I..." He paused, drew in another breath and let it out slowly. "Anyway, Lisa told me and between us we stole Mica and I carried her."

“I was afraid of that,” Owen said. “There were hints in the Torchwood One files we were able to salvage that they were up to something. Research notes into something they called unusual DNA. I tried to track it down but most of the working files were in the labs the Daleks burned down.”

"They experimented on everything and with everyone.” Ianto risked a look up at the others. Tosh looked worried for him; Owen serious, but Jack, with his clenched jaw, looked angry. Ianto looked away again. “I know one of the sub directors was doing research into psychics and their abilities. I always figured that Mica was part of that research.” He looked up and gave them his hardest look. “But as far as anyone needs to know, she's my daughter.”

“Like I said, I'm her doctor. Everything I know is de facto confidential. But...” Owen stopped and waited until everyone was looking at him. “I know who the other parent is, Ianto. That's why I was asking. When I was drawing up her first DNA profile, I identified her. And it's been making me crazy trying to figure out how you could have had a child with her.”

Ianto returned Owen’s stare with one of his own. Unable to handle this without Jack’s support, he reached over and grabbed Jack’s hand with one of his. He clenched his fingers around that hand and was relieved to feel his lover return the clasp. It was then he knew that Jack wasn’t angry with him for keeping Mica’s background from him but with the London branch for how she’d been created. “Who?” he demanded. “I don’t know who her other parent is. She was just a tiny embryo when Lisa did the implantation for me.” He dropped his gaze for a moment before looking up. “I worried for weeks wondering if she’d make it.”

“It’s Suzie,” Owen replied. “Suzie Costello.”

“What?” Jack snapped. “Our Mica is hers?”

Ianto blinked in surprise at the vehemence of Jack’s demands to their medic. He squeezed Jack’s hand again, but asked his question of Owen. “You’re certain?”

“Yeah,” Owen answered. “You see, Suzie had unusual DNA. As a matter of fact, I’ll bet you my next month’s pay packet that she had a wizard in her family tree somewhere.”

“What?” Ianto asked, stunned.

“Suzie's psychic levels were through the roof, but mostly dormant, I guess,” Owen explained. “She had flashes of intuition about things, remember, Jack? But nothing that could be trained. I think that's why the glove was able to latch onto her so easily. But some of her chromosomes resemble yours. There’s something in your junk DNA that is identical.”

“No one's known how magic is inherited,” Ianto said softly. “You may have discovered the answer there, Owen. I just can't imagine Suzie as Mica's other parent."

“You don't have to,” Owen replied. He reached over and squeezed Ianto’s shoulder. “She was a genetic donor, that's all. Jack is the other parent."

“Just what he said,” Jack added with a smile. “Mica's ours, Ianto. Nothing else is important."

“If you wanted to know which magical family Mica was related to through Suzie, could you do it?" Tosh asked.

Ianto thought for a moment then nodded. "I can. It's a simple potion.” He tilted his head while he sorted through his memories of potions class. “The same one used a decade ago to discover my lineage. Do up the base potion, add three drops of blood of the person you want the lineage of and then pour it on a piece of parchment."

“Why?” Jack asked.

“I was talking with Pommy,” Owen answered, “And she says for treating certain magical illnesses it's very useful to know the lineage of a person.”

“She lets you call her Pommy?!" Ianto stared at the medic in shock before he shook his head and started to walk a few steps away. “Yes, but there are some…” He trailed off into silence. He shook his head and jerked away when Jack tried to hug him.

“Some people you might not want her related to?” Tosh began. “It doesn't matter, Ianto. We are her family. If Mica is going to live between our world out there and this one here, you need to give her as much protection as you can."

Ianto shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself. "You all saw Suzie. She descended into obsession and madness. I'm borderline OCD. We all know it.” He took a deep breath and turned back to face them. “Let’s be honest, my mother is a sociopath while my father is likely a psychopath. Insanity runs in my family. My relatives all intermarry...."

“Mica will be fine,” Owen quickly intervened. “There might be some genetic deficiencies in your line, but let me tell you, you're as sane, no, saner, than anyone I've ever met. If you managed what happened to you here, Canary Wharf, and Lisa without turning into a raving loony, you're never going to. And Suzie was genetically fine. Her madness was the kind that is induced, Ianto. She was severely abused as a child, in horrific ways, physical and mental. Mica will be raised by a loving family in a happy home, with brothers and sisters and cousins. She will be fine.”

Ianto stared at Owen. Just stared at him for several minutes before quietly asking, “You’re certain?”

“Certain,” Owen replied. He held Ianto’s gaze the whole time so that his friend would know he was being honest with him. “And you know, maybe the news is good. She could be related to some very good families.”

Ianto considered for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll talk to Severus about the potion during the feast,” he finally said. A quick glance at his watch told him this conversation had to be finished later or they’d be late to the Halloween feast. “We’re going to be late, if we don’t hurry up.” He looked between each of the others. “We’re agreed then? No telling Draco what he’s done?”

“I don't think it would be a good idea,” Tosh answered for the group. “He's not quite steady yet, too many changes.”

“We tell him only if we think he needs to know,” Jack said. The words were delivered in his ‘captain’s voice’ which made them an order unless modified later. “Otherwise, just encourage the friendship with the girls and let him know he has a place to run to, if he needs to run.”

“Sounds good,” Owen added. He offered an arm to Tosh. “Now let’s head down, I’m hungry.”

Ianto laughed, grabbed his dress robe and slipped it on before stepping to Jack’s side. He watched Tosh and Owen leave the sitting room and start through the defense classroom beyond before resting a hand on Jack’s arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mica,” he whispered. “I just… It’s hard to talk about that aspect of me.”

“We will talk about it,” Jack replied. “But not now, after the feast.” He tilted his head just a bit to kiss Ianto. “I understand you not wanting to talk about it, but we do need to. Now shall we go play intimidating chaperones while retrieving our youngest?”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ***

As the feast ended, Draco listened with half his attention as Dumbledore announced the start of the Halloween party for the upper years. All students from third year down were sent back to their common rooms while the fourth years and up got to party in the great hall. The long banquet tables used for dinner were banished, replaced with smaller round tables and cozy seating groups along the walls of the room. Draco rose, settling Mica on his hip again, and headed for one of the table groupings near the dais for the head table.

Setting Mica in the protected chair in the corner, Draco grabbed a chair of his own beside her. He scanned the room and smiled as his friends came to leave drinks at the table he’d claimed. An eyebrow rose as he watched Professor Harkness talk earnestly to Professor Jones for several minutes before the older man dragged the younger out onto the now empty center of the floor. The music was something slow and romantic. Draco couldn’t help but smile at the two men in the middle of the floor even as the rest of Hogwarts seemed to do nothing but stare. Just as he started to worry about the situation, Blaise seemed to rescue it from total collapse by whirling Luna Lovegood out onto what was apparently now a dance floor. He did laugh, quite gaily as Harry copied Blaise with Hermione. Within moments, the three couples were joined by the escaped Gryffindors who seemed to have fallen in with the Slytherins, Ron awkwardly dancing with Lavender while Neville was much more graceful with Ginny.

“Come on, Draco,” Pansy said as she stepped up beside him. She held a hand out to him with one of her challenging smiles. Her head tilted toward the dance floor where the music had changed over to something fast and lively, if still clearly muggle in origin. “It looks like fun.”

“Me, too!” Mica chimed in from the corner.

“Well?” Draco asked. He looked up at his childhood friend in equally silent challenge. Pansy, he knew, would understand what he’d done downstairs and the duties he’d taken on as Mica’s older brother.

“Yeah, bring her, too.”

Draco rose, bent over to pick up Mica and set her on his hip. He let Pansy lead him out to the dance floor and the three of them started to dance, not quite as energetically as the other couples, but having a bit of fun. They hadn’t been there for more than a minute or two before Doctor ‘do-not-call-me-professor’ Harper came over to retrieve Mica from Draco. Draco smiled at the man before shifting his attention to properly dancing with Pansy. He shared a look with Blaise, grinned, and spun Pansy about to hand her off to the Italian while catching Luna. They traded off partners without missing a step in the dance even if it was some strangely wild muggle thing.

“Hello, Luna,” Draco purred while twirling her close to him. “Having fun?”

"Oh, yes, I've always wanted to participate in the traditional dance to ward off the borogoves. It's quite enjoyable, isn't it?" She smiled up at him. All the vapidity cleared from her eyes. “And you? Are you having real fun yet?”

“As much as I can,” he replied. Draco looked over her shoulder to where Harry was speaking intently to Hermione and Neville. After a long silent moment, he looked back down at the girl he was dancing with and gave her a half hearted smile. “As much as I can,” he repeated sadly.

“Can or should?”

A bitter laugh escaped him at her question. He shook his head just a bit at her persistence. “Appearances, Luna,” he murmured. “You know I can’t do just anything I want.”

“Someday you’re going to have to decide whether appearances are really that important,” Luna retorted.

Before he could reply to her, she twirled away from him to switch places with Pansy. Draco looked from one laughing girl to the other before sighing and focusing on the one he was currently dancing with. “You put her up to that, didn’t you?” he asked tiredly.

“Draco! It’s Luna,” Pansy snapped back. “No one can put her up to anything. It’s like herding a cat!”

Draco snarled in frustration. There were so many things he wanted to do, yet he didn’t dare do any of them. His gaze drifted over her shoulder to where Harry stood laughing, his head bent close to Hermione’s ear as the other boy spoke to her. Draco growled again. He wanted to be the one making Harry laugh, but those damned Malfoy expectations. He looked at Pansy, shook his head, and all but dragged her back to the table in the corner where he didn’t have to see Harry laughing with Hermione.

Draco dropped into a chair. He momentarily dug his hands into his hair before another sigh escaped him. He reached out to grab a goblet off the table but a soft sound from Pansy distracted him. He looked up at the girl, his closest friend for most of his life, and shook his head. “You know, don’t you?”

“Only because I know you,” Pansy grabbed a chair and dragged it close to him. “I should have caught it sooner, especially when you started with the bits of French for him like you use with little Mica.” She rested a hand on his wrist for a moment. “You know this can’t go anywhere.”

“I know,” Draco sighed tiredly. “Love and duty don’t mix in our world.” His gaze drifted over her shoulder to watch Harry on the other side of the room. “As the last Malfoy, I definitely have a duty to find a suitable witch, preferably a pureblood, and produce an heir.”

Pansy twisted about in her chair to look over at Harry. “Do you love him?” she asked quietly. She turned back to him. “Draco?”

He shook his head. “What do I know of love, Pansy?” he asked. He played with the goblet on the table before shrugging. “No, I’m not allowed to love. Not with all the expectations laid on me. It’s useless to want more than a friendship with whoever I marry since I have that duty to the Malfoy name and estate.”

“Draco…” Pansy began only to break off abruptly when a distinctly masculine hand appeared between her and Draco. The voice that followed had her heart breaking for her friend.

“Dance with me, Draco?” Harry asked softly.

Draco stared up at Harry. He was tempted, so very tempted, but one glance at the room beyond their corner reminded him of the costs, the very high costs, of giving in to yet another temptation. What he’d done with Mica in the common room was bad enough, but to do this would be too much. “I _can’t_ ,” he whispered.

“What’s the problem?” Harry asked. He looked around the room, but saw nothing other than other couples, including their two male defense professors, dancing and being happy. He wanted this with Draco. “Draco?”

“Harry…”

Hermione leant between Draco and Harry. She snatched the goblet Draco had been playing with from the table and hissed, “There are people who would love to run to Lucius Malfoy with the gossip, Harry.” She straightened and sipped from the goblet. “Leave him alone.”

Draco gave her a quick smile before looking up at Harry. He stared up into those emerald eyes. He wanted to throw caution to the winds, reach out and grab something for himself without thought to the consequences for once. He wished, desperately, that he didn’t have to worry about appearances, family, his father or the Dark Lord. He just wanted to be an ordinary wizard. He ducked his head for a moment, shifted a bit to conceal his next move from the students beyond their small corner, and reached out to briefly clasp Harry’s hand. He tugged, just enough to pull Harry closer to him, and whispered, “I wish I could, _cher_ , but I have to protect us all. I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry’s disappointment shimmered briefly in his eyes before he nodded and turned away to smile at Luna who’d come up behind him. Softly, Harry asked the fourth year to dance, but all of the small group could tell his heart wasn’t in the moment. It was only a diversion to keep the attention of the Death Eater acolytes off Draco. Draco watched them start for the dance floor, desperately trying to keep his feelings hidden from observers, only to be completely distracted by Hermione’s sudden boneless collapse into his lap. His startled exclamation was echoed by both Ron and Neville’s chorus of the girl’s name.

“Hermione!”

Dropping Luna’s hand, Harry whirled and ran back to Hermione’s side. He dropped to his knees beside her and began a standard check of her vital signs. He spared a quick smile for Draco as the blonde laid the girl on the floor and covered her with his outer robe. “What do you know?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Draco replied. “She took my goblet as cover to interrupt us,” he explained. “I know she was drinking from it.” He reached out a shaking hand and brushed her hair back from her face. He barely noticed as several of their circle of friends went running for various adults while he and Harry talked. “Someone must have put something in it for me. I did make myself a very tempting target earlier this evening.”

“It could have been for my daughter, too,” Professor Harkness interrupted. A hand came down on Draco’s shoulder. “Not just you, Draco.” The same hand gently pulled him away. “Let Owen work on her now.”

Draco bit his lip for a moment, but allowed Professor Harkness to move him away from Hermione’s body. He clenched and unclenched his hands. He wanted to hurt someone for hurting his friend. He scanned the room, taking note of where every one of the other Slytherins were, and made mental notes on their reactions to the scene. Doctor Harper’s voice drew his attention to the scene at his feet.

“She’s been poisoned, Jack,” the doctor said. “I need to know with what before I can counter it. I don’t have the good equipment here.”

“I know, Owen,” Professor Harkness replied. “Is she stable enough to move?”

“Yeah,” came the reply. “You find out who did this and what it is. Harry, Pommy and me will take care of her until then.” The Doctor reached up and clasped Jack’s wrist. “You won’t lose her.”

Jack nodded, knelt, and picked up Hermione. Her head lolled against his shoulder as he rose to his feet and started for the door. His daughter’s new friends followed him as he strode briskly toward the infirmary they’d spent far too much time in already thanks to the intermittent hexes his teenaged child still endured. When he found out who attempted to kill his daughter there would be hell to pay.

As the group headed out of the hall, Ron, bringing up the rear, held a hand out for Lavender. He knew the two of them weren’t really welcome amongst Hermione’s friends, not yet, but he still wanted to be certain she was okay. That she’d live. Hermione had been one of his first true friends at Hogwarts, they’d been close for years, and he couldn’t not worry over her. He listened to the others talking, trying to determine what had been done and why, and could hear the gossip beginning behind them amongst the students still in the great hall. One particularly vicious comment caught Ron’s attention. He slowed his steps a bit, deliberately lagging behind, and scanned the room for the source of the comment.

At first he saw nothing unusual, just Dumbledore encouraging the party to continue while everyone gossiped, but then he saw her. Parvati Patil and her sister, Padma, were in one corner of the room, both girls artistically draped over the Slytherin Quidditch captain. “Fuck,” he whispered. He hurriedly tugged Lavender from the great hall. “I need your help, Lav.”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR ***

Jack paced the main aisle of the infirmary. All around him, the children perched. Hermione’s friends refused to leave her side until they knew for certain she was okay. As he paced, he fought the occasional smile when he saw the way they were coupling off. Neville Longbottom was seated at the head of the bed next to Hermione’s with his girlfriend nestled against his chest between his spread legs. Curled up at the foot of that same bed was Pansy, her arms draped over the foot of the bed while she watched the two medics tend to Hermione with Harry’s help. Draco was on the opposite side of Hermione with Mica once again in his lap. It sounded like he was softly telling the toddler fairy tales. On the end of that bed, Blaise was seated with Luna beside him. Unlike the restless Jack, Ianto stood quietly at the head of the bed, constantly stroking their daughter’s hair.

For all the gathered students seeming inattention, Jack was amazed when they all took up defensive positions at the sound of running feet in the hallway outside the infirmary. They were fast, as fast as any new agent to Torchwood, in the grasp of their wands. Jack himself turned toward the doors, his Webley in his hand, as they were flung open by the incoming students. “Mr. Weasley, Miss Brown,” he snapped. “Why are you…?”

“This,” Ron snapped. He shoved a vial in his hand toward the school nurse. “She was likely given this.”

“And just how do you know this, Mr. Weasley?” Ianto said.

Jack recognized the tone in his lover’s voice. This was ‘do not fuck with me’ Ianto as opposed to ‘I’m the bad cop’ Ianto. He looked over, flashed a momentary smile at his partner, and then turned his attention back to the newest students to arrive. “He does have a point, how do you know?”

“It’s a guess, but…”

“It fits,” Lavender Brown interrupted Ron Weasley. She rested a hand on his arm, but nodded to the vial. “Ron had me get that from the Gryffindor girl’s dorm. The boys can’t get up into it, so I had to. We saw one of my roommates get it a couple of days ago. That same girl was draped all over Graham Montague tonight at the party after Hermione’s collapse.”

“And I heard her call Hermione a know-it-all mudblood freak,” Ron added. “So, I got that to bring to you. Figured it was the cause of her illness.”

While they’d talked, Owen and Madam Pomfrey had been working on the vial. Owen’s snarled curse quieted everyone. “Datura,” he said after his curses trailed off. He looked down at Hermione and sighed. “Alright, find whoever did this and charge them with attempted murder while I work on Hermione.”

“Owen?” Ianto’s voice shook as he spoke. “I…”

“Trust me, Teaboy,” Owen replied. “I won’t let her die. I know how to treat this. Between us, Pommy and I will heal her, but it will take a few days. It’s best that you get these kids out of here and deal with the bitch who just tried to kill her.”

“You’ll keep us posted?” Jack half-ordered, half-asked. He gestured to Tosh to take Mica from Draco. The toddler was half-asleep from the earlier excitement and Draco’s storytelling. He glanced at all the students, but none had moved from their seats. “Well, you heard him.”

“Sorry, sir,” Draco replied. “You need us. Or at least our help.”

“You think so?” Ianto interjected. He was speaking in that low deadly voice he used only when he was defending the team. “And just how do you think you can help us?”

Draco straightened his back and met Ianto’s eyes. He stared intently at his professor for a long moment before giving a slow, cold smile. “To confirm the source of the poison, you need Professor Snape’s help. He’ll listen to me best.” He shifted forward just a bit to be closer to Professor Jones. “Weasley and Brown can trick the Patil twins into giving away their involvement.”

Before either Ianto or Jack could comment on Draco’s planning skills, Severus Snape stalked into the room followed by the Headmaster and his deputy. McGonagall immediately started with platitudes, but Severus took the vial from Pomfrey’s grasp, opened it and sniffed it. His jaw clenched as he swirled the bottle before nodding. “I have a direct counter to this,” Severus said to Pomfrey. “What have you done so far?”

“Supportive care mostly,” Owen replied for her. “I recognized the primary ingredient.”

“That was helpful,” Severus replied. He leant over and whispered instructions to the school nurse. He watched her rush off, get the needed potions and start administering them. “This will take a bit to work and Miss Lestrange will need a full physical afterwards to see if there are any lingering aftereffects.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Owen said before turning back to his patient.

Severus, for his part, turned to Dumbledore. He waved the vial between him and the Headmaster. “This is a Death Eater poison,” he said quietly. “Where did you find it?”

“Parvati Patil had it,” Ron said. “But she can’t be…”

“You must be mistaken, Severus,” the Headmaster began. “This is probably just a misunderstanding…” his words were echoed by Professor McGonagall.

“Stop it,” Severus snarled. “This is a Death Eater poison. She got it from a Death Eater.” He leant forward toward the Headmaster. “She. Could. Not. Have. Gotten. It. Anywhere. Else.” Each word was bitten off to make his point.

Ianto stepped around Owen to rest a hand on Severus’s arm. “I know,” he said softly. “Ron, Ginny, Lavender, bring Parvati to the defense classroom.” He looked over at Jack, considered for a moment, and then nodded. “Jack…”

“Don’t even ask…”

“I’m not,” Ianto interrupted. “Get the answers we need.”

“If she's a Death Eater, she'll know something has gone wrong the moment Ron and Ginny show up,” Draco interjected. “She'll try to run.”

“You have a suggestion, Draco?” Ianto asked. Inwardly, beneath his worry for his oldest daughter, he was inordinately pleased to see Draco speaking up like this.

“Yes,” Draco replied. He turned to Ron. “Tell Parvati they're searching the whole castle for a strange house-elf someone saw, and that the students from the upper years have been asked to help. You, she, and Lavender have been assigned to the corridor and the rooms where the defense classroom is.

"Keep going,” Ianto encouraged with a barely there smile.

“The professors are in the infirmary with Hermione,” Draco said after a moment’s thought. “If she's really a Death Eater, she won't pass up the chance of searching your quarters and find something to send back to her Master.”

“All right,” Ianto nodded. “But we still need to question her. How are you going to get her for that?”

“You two can be waiting for her in your bedroom,” Draco said. “One thing about her, she’s a coward. She couldn’t bring herself to attack Hermione directly.” He cast a smile at his still unconscious friend. “Unlike me, I always confronted her, but still poisons, explosions, hexes from behind. Those are a coward’s methods. She’ll talk easily enough when confronted by you.”

"We'll make an agent out of you yet, Draco,” Jack said. He didn’t bother to hide his pleasure at Draco’s speaking up or his plan. “Go on, Ron.” He nodded a dismissal to the Weasley boy and watched him lead his girlfriend from the room. “Toshiko, would you keep Mica in your quarters tonight?”

“Of course,” Tosh replied. “I have a few tricks set up to keep anyone from getting in.”

“The rest of you, go back to your dorms,” Jack ordered. “We’ll let you know as soon as things change with Hermione and the results of our interview with the Patil girl.”

“You can’t question a student on suspicion,” Dumbledore interrupted. “We all saw her with Mr. Montague tonight. Maybe he was using her. Told her it was a joke on Draco or something…”

Jack took a step forward and leant into Dumbledore’s space. He glared at the old wizard not bothering to hide his contempt for the old man any longer. He held the look until the Headmaster took a half-step back, clearly giving way to Jack, and smiled coldly. He stalked past the man, not even having to look to know Ianto had fallen in step with him, and rested a hand on the infirmary doors. He looked back once, only once, to hiss, “Watch me.”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE ***

Draco sprawled across a sofa in Pansy and Hermione’s rooms. The girls had turned the fifth year prefects’ suite into a sanctuary for the Slytherin fifth years. An escape from the appearances they had to maintain in the common room. He draped an arm over his forehead and sighed. “Harry’s being an idiot again,” he murmured.

“What else is new?” Pansy replied. “What’s he done this time?”

“Took that cloak of his and went off to see if he could eavesdrop on the professors’ interrogation.”

“Twit.”

“Tell me about it,” Draco said. He sighed softly. He crossed his ankles on the sofa and absently hummed along with the music Pansy had set to playing. “He has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.”

“You adore it,” Pansy snapped. “He makes up for your innate caution.”

Draco shifted just a bit to glare over at the Slytherin girl. He shook his head at her. “You have a point?”

“Always.” Pansy settled in a chair nearby and leant forward toward Draco. “You’ve changed since the new professors arrived and Harry started rooming with you.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.” She reached over and took his hand. “You aren’t hiding behind the Malfoy mask anymore. I knew you cared for me, but now I can see it as well. And the old Draco would never have become so good at defense. You wouldn’t have touched a muggle weapon, no matter how potentially useful the knowledge would have been, but would have run to your father in protest of the new instructors.”

“I do not always run to Lucius,” Draco snarled.

“Not anymore you don’t.” She laughed at his affronted look. “Admit it, Draco, until this year you were very much a ‘daddy’s boy’. Always doing exactly what you thought would get you approval from your father.”

Draco sighed and shifted back to stare at the ceiling again. “You’re right,” he muttered. “Not that it mattered. I don’t think he’s ever praised me for anything I’ve done. I’ve never been good enough for him.”

“I wasn’t good enough either,” Pansy murmured. “My only use to the Parkinsons is as a barter good for a business or marital deal.”

“You could ask Professor Harkness for sanctuary,” Draco quietly reminded her. “He is the oldest member of the family according to the records we found. He almost has to take you in if you ask.”

“I couldn’t,” Pansy replied. “Just like you won’t leave the Malfoys.”

“I would if I could, Pans.” Draco rolled off the sofa to stand again. He paced the sitting room of the suite. “But right now, I’m useful to Harry because of my family connections. You and I both know _he’s_ back and my father is his right hand man.”

“So, you bury your feelings for duty?”

“Don’t we all?” Draco retorted. “How about I make you a deal, _chérie ami_?” He crouched down in front of Pansy and rested his hands on the arms of her chair, effectively caging her in place in front of him, and smirked at her. “I’ll leave the Malfoys for Harry and the light side the day you forsake the Parkinsons.”

“I could throw that right back at you,” she snapped. “You leave the Malfoys and I’ll follow you.”

“So, we’re at an impasse then,” he replied. He rose again, resuming his pacing of the sitting room, and shoved a hand through his hair. “This is going to come to a head soon. We both know it. That attack on Hermione was too blatant.”

“And likely aimed more at you then her,” Pansy said. “She did take your drink.”

“I know.” He stopped his pacing to lean on a table. Draco stared blindly down at the parchments spread on the table. “If it was aimed at me, then Montague was behind it, but why attack me?”

“You did claim Mica as your sister,” Pansy pointed out helpfully. “Definitely goes against tradition for you to do that. She’s a half-blood at best and no matter what is a bastard child by definition.”

“I know, but…” Draco shook his head as he thought of the toddler. “Ginevra was right. She’s my baby sister. I just want to…”

“Spoil her, love her, play with her,” Pansy listed.

“Protect her,” Draco concluded. “I don’t want those pureblooded bastards to harm her. Connecting her to me…”

“Makes her an even bigger target,” Pansy interrupted. “Stop lying to yourself and to me, Draco. She’s your chance to escape. We both know it.”

“Pansy…” Draco began only to shake his head. “I should go find Harry.”

“Avoiding the conversation doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I’m not using Mica,” Draco snapped. He grabbed up his outer robe, slung it over his shoulders, and stalked to the door. Jerking it open, he glared back at the girl still seated in that chair. “I am not my father. I don’t use family like that!” The door made a very satisfying slam behind him as he stalked out of the prefects’ suite.

Draco stormed down the corridor toward the room he shared with Harry. He shoved that door open, stomped in and flung himself down on his bed. Robes were carelessly tossed away to land wherever while he lay there staring up at the canopy of the four poster bed. He glared at the darkness above him, his hands clenching and unclenching amongst the covers beneath him, until he couldn’t take the twisting paths his thoughts were taking about the little girl he was starting to adore. “I’m nothing like my father,” he snarled more to himself than anyone else, not that anyone was about to hear him. He threw himself off the bed and stalked for the door. “I’m not.” Draco flung the door open with every intention of searching for Harry only to have the ex-Gryffindor nearly thrown at him by his Head of House.

“You’re a Slytherin,” Snape snarled. “Act like one.” The invisibility cloak was thrown into the dorm after Harry. “I catch you skulking about like that again and the cloak will be confiscated until your children have graduated!”

“He hasn’t a clue, sir,” Draco muttered. He shrugged, grabbed the cloak and started to fold it up. “I can’t seem to get rid of those Gryffindor tendencies of his.”

“Try harder, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape snarled. Giving both boys one final glare, he strode back down the hallway toward the common room.

“You’re lucky he didn’t give you detention,” Draco said quietly. He draped the folded cloak over the back of a chair and turned to face Harry. “Were you able to hear anything before you got caught?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten caught if Professor Snape hadn’t gone storming out of the room with no warning,” Harry snapped back at the other boy. “Of course I heard things.”

“Well,” Draco drawled. “Don’t keep me in suspense, _cher_.”

“Why do you call me that?” Harry muttered. He threw himself onto his bed, crossed his arms behind his head and stared upwards for a bit. “Never mind,” he snapped. “I learned that our defense professors are scary as hell.”

“Professor Jones is a Lestrange,” Draco began. He crossed the room to sit on the side of Harry’s bed. “It stands to reason that he’d have a dark side. That isn’t what I meant though. And you know that.”

Harry turned onto his side to consider the blonde. He reached out a hand and absently began stroking Draco’s thigh while he talked. “Padma didn’t know anything. It was all Parvati’s doing.” He broke off for a moment to shake his head. “I thought I knew her, Parvati that is, as we were in Gryffindor together and she even went to the Yule Ball with me last year, but…” Harry trailed off and sighed. “The things she said while they questioned her.”

“I know, Harry,” Draco murmured. “You don’t need to repeat it to me.”

“How do you…”

“I grew up with it, remember?” Draco chuckled softly and covered Harry’s hand with his own. “So, it was Parvati. Did they question the girls with Veritaserum?”

“Dumbledore refused to allow it.” Harry flopped back onto his back again. “They argued over it. Professor Harkness wanted to. So did Snape, but Dumbledore put his foot down on the issue.” Harry closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to stare up at Draco. “Professor Jones though… he was… it was strange. He got very quiet, to the point that I couldn’t really hear what he was saying, and whatever it was he said, Dumbledore agreed with. I don’t know what happened after that as that was when Snape swept out of the room and ran into me.” Harry blushed and shook his head. “I do have detention though. Tomorrow night with Professor Harkness.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Draco murmured while shaking his head. “You really need to start pulling those Slytherin traits out. You need to plot and plan, work behind the scenes, not rush in blindly like a Gryffindor.”

“Draco…”

“No, Harry.” Draco laid his hand over the younger boy’s mouth to silence him. “I’ve discovered that I would miss you.” He took his hand away and shifted to look over at his own bed rather than at Harry. “I will miss you, Harry. So don’t go rushing out to get killed, hmm?”

“You’d miss me?” Harry asked. Shock colored his voice as he spoke. He was fairly certain this was the first time someone actually mentioned missing him if he was lost in this upcoming war. He blinked up at Draco for a moment then sat up and reached out for the other boy. He rested a hand on Draco’s cheek and gently urged him back around to look at him. He rubbed his thumb over soft skin and sighed before shifting forward to brush his lips across Draco’s in a brief chaste kiss. “I’d miss you, too. So don’t do anything stupid, yourself, hmm?”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ***

Jack accepted a cup of coffee from Ianto as his lover settled in the chair next to him. The Torchwood contingent was seated much as they did in the Cardiff boardroom. Ianto at his right hand, Owen on his left with Tosh beside him and the teachers from Hogwarts were arranged along the rest of the table. Directly opposite him was the Headmaster. Jack stared at the old wizard. He knew the man was up to something; he could see it in the twinkle in the man’s eye, the considering smile as he watched his teachers talk over each other. It reminded him of the Doctor and his plots. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the old man, see if he could figure out what he was planning.

“A Gryffindor!” Professor Sprout yelped. “I never would have believed a Gryffindor would…”

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Owen snapped. He glared at all the teachers until they fell silent. “What does that have to do with anything? You people have been living inside these walls too long. People are people and naming them after animals isn't going to change that!"

While Professor Sprout stared, her mouth hanging open, at Owen, Jack jumped in before anyone else could speak up. “Owen is right,” he said quietly. He set his cup aside, clasped his hands together and stared at each teacher in turn. “You have to start learning to protect yourselves and your students.”

Before Jack could continue the teachers once again started talking over each other. He kept silent, listening to them talk about how no one would attack Hogwarts, how they were the best of their fields, and their magical defenses were the best. They might need strengthening, but nothing beyond that. He watched the Headmaster even as he listened to the arguments around him. He fully expected Dumbledore to take control of the meeting at any moment, yet the old wizard did nothing, just stared back at him. Finally, totally fed up with the situation, Jack rose to his feet, slammed his hands down onto the table and snapped, “Enough!”

“Doctor Harper is right. People are people. Miss Patil...” Professor McGonagall’s voice drifted across the tense silence which fell in the wake of Jack’s shout. “Let's just say I've been keeping an eye on her, although this wasn't exactly why.” She turned her attention to Jack. “What do you propose, Captain?”

Nodding to Minerva, Jack resumed his seat at the table. “They’re coming for Hogwarts, people, because the wizarding world lives or dies on your survival.” He spread his hands on the table top before lifting one to gesture at the school beyond the teacher’s lounge. “In any society, whoever controls the schools controls the future.” He shook his head, memories of another time trying to crowd in before he forced them back, and dragged in a breath. “Miss Patil’s actions were a test. Of the unity of the staff and the students.”

“We have to present a united front,” Ianto said. He picked up the discussion with ease. “You all need to learn to protect yourselves in other ways than magic or learn advanced skills which you may have forgotten in your years teaching.”

“Improvisation, muggle defense, and fortifying the building,” Jack added. “The younger students need to learn more defensive magic at a faster rate while the older students concentrate on integrating magic with the muggle skills we’re already teaching them.”

“You’re proposing turning Hogwarts into an armed camp,” Professor Sprout protested. “You can’t. The students are just…”

“On the front lines of a war that could break out any day,” Jack snapped. “In addition to defense, the students need to learn medical skills – first aid and triage at a minimum – and we need to teach those good at it to strategize and plan for any potential attack.”

“And communications, Jack,” Tosh added softly.

“Communications, as well,” he agreed. “It’s clear from the way you reacted to our arrival, my call from Hermione and Toshiko’s arrival the next day none of you have any idea of the advances the rest of the world has made while you stagnated in the Victorian era.”

“We haven’t…” Sprout started to talk but fell silent when Minerva raised a hand.

“I know it’s hard, Pomona, but we must adapt for the protection of the children.” Minerva scanned the table and nodded. “We have become complacent since the disappearance of You-Know-Who. We can’t afford that any longer.”

“Lord Voldemort,” Ianto snapped. “Name him, Minerva. If you refuse to name him, you give him power over you.”

Jack nodded and flashed a smile at his lover. “He’s right,” he said. “Voldemort has the psychological high ground right now because no one wants to name him. It’s a mistake. To quote my daughter, fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.” He leant back in his chair and considered the others. “We may not be able to get the ministry to accept Voldemort’s return at the moment, so we’re on our own until he does something dramatic enough to get their attention. We have to defend the students and the castle from any potential attacks.”

“I’m too old to be learning muggle tricks,” Professor Flitwick added softly. “I’m a good duelist however and can assist in teaching magical defense.”

“You must have a plan, Captain?” Minevra asked. “Can you share it?”

“Some,” Jack replied with a smile. “It’s still being developed at the moment.” He leant forward and smiled. “First, I’d like Remus Lupin to return to the school as soon as he possibly could to take over teaching the lower years. The first through fourth years are far too young to be on the front lines unless there’s no other choice. If at all possible, I want them to evacuate the building when we know an attack is eminent. I’ve pulled two students from the fourth year class and added them to the core group Ianto and I are personally teaching while the rest of the upper years are being taught by Owen and Toshiko.”

“Professor Flitwick,” Ianto began slowly. “If you wouldn’t mind, would you coordinate with Tosh on communications? We need a way to secure our network, comms and cellphones from tampering and to find a way to hold a charge for longer. It would ruin everything if they died during a battle situation.”

“Of course, it would be an interesting challenge.”

“Then I leave the defense of the school in your hands, Captain,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted before Jack could pick up the thread of the briefing again. “It’s late and the students have classes tomorrow. I’ll look into contacting Remus, but he may not arrive before the start of the spring term.”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN ***

Beginning the next morning, the rest of the term passed mostly uneventfully. Draco’s nerves were shot from the fine balancing act he was playing. In public, he had to continue the role, flirting with the female witches of his acquaintance while playing protective older brother to Mica Lestrange. In private, he relaxed as much as he could and taught Harry all the Slytherin tricks he’d learned from childhood. Yet, never, not once did he mention that one kiss. He didn’t dare. It would be far too dangerous to mention the events of that night. Best to bury them completely as fodder for dreams when he was trapped in whatever loveless marriage his father was arranging for him.

With snow blanketing the grounds outside the castle, the fifth years now had defense class inside. What was being referred to as The Captain’s Squad by some of the other students were doing their shooting, hand-to-hand, and strategy lessons in the Room of Requirement while the rest of the students alternated lessons with the newly reinstated Professor Lupin, Doctor Harper or Miss Sato. When they weren’t in lessons, all of that select group of students studying directly with Captain Harkness and Professor Jones knew they were allowed to spend time honing their skills in the Room of Requirement’s shooting gallery.

Draco paced outside until the door appeared, opened it, and smiled at what he saw inside. He picked up the gun the room provided him with, loaded it, and, after donning suitable protective gear, began firing at the targets on the far end of the room. He emptied clip after clip, determined to get his rage out before he had go finish packing then head to the entrance hall to meet his father.

The sharp crack of a pistol beside him made Draco glance to one side. Captain Jack Harkness stood beside him, focused on his own practice, and Draco just shook his head before finishing the clip currently in his gun. With the last shot, he closed his eyes and asked the room to provide him with the necessary materials to clean the pistol. Looking around, he saw a table behind the firing line laid out with the appropriate equipment. Taking the pistol with him, Draco settled at the table and began to break it down. He wasn’t surprised at all when the Captain quickly joined him. They worked in silence for several minutes until finally the Captain laid his reassembled revolver on the table in front of him. Draco finished with the pistol, set it down and folded his hands on top. “You’ve heard then, sir?” he asked rather than squirm under the man’s intense stare.

“I heard,” Jack laughed softly. “It was hard to miss the shouting match between your father and the Headmaster.” He tilted his head to the side to consider the boy in front of him. “You’re scheduled to leave this evening.” It was a statement more than a question.

“Yes, sir,” Draco nodded. He rose to his feet, unsurprised to discover a window had appeared in the room for him to stare broodingly out of. “I needed a break before I finished packing.”

“I can understand that,” Jack agreed. He clasped his hand together before him while contemplating the young Malfoy. “You do know going to, or staying at, your parents’ home is not the only option you have.”

“I have to go, sir,” Draco said softly. “I don’t have a choice in that. I have to go to the manor.” He gave Jack a half-smile. “But I’ll keep your words in mind.”

“This is about more than your father dragging you home just days before the end of term, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Draco replied. He leant on the stonework surrounding the window and reached out to trace his fingers through the frost coating the glass. “I told that to Pansy months ago, sir. What I want… what I feel… doesn’t matter in the long run. I have a duty to the Malfoys.”

“Duty is a cold mistress, Draco,” Jack said softly. He rose to his feet and cross the room to join Draco at the window.”

“I know, sir,” Draco murmured. “Or perhaps I’m still learning that, but I’m the Malfoy heir.” He felt the frown form as he named himself that and shook his head. “There are no choices for me.”

“There's always a choice,” Jack snapped. He smiled at the boy in brief apology. “For longer than you can imagine, I thought I didn't have a choice either...."

“I know you're older than you appear, sir.” Draco smiled back at Jack. “Just after you arrived here, Pansy and I looked at the genealogies in the library. It was obvious to me, even if she didn’t understand the inferences.”

Jack looked startled for a moment, causing Draco’s smile to slip into a soft smirk. “You are definitely related to Ianto, aren’t you?” he asked.

“We are first cousins, sir.”

“True,” Jack conceded the point. “Well, then, if you know how long I’ve been around, would you like to know why?”

“If you wish to tell me,” Draco shrugged and went back to staring out the window at the snow covered grounds below. “I doubt it’s something I truly need to know.”

“That's where you're wrong, Draco.” Jack shifted to face the boy. He crossed his arms over his chest and leant a shoulder against the window frame. He looked outside, just able to see some of the younger students playing in the snow. “I think you, of all people, need to know this.”

“So tell me then,” Draco snapped.

“Well, it begins in the fifty-first century on a little human colony called Boeshane,” Jack began. “I was born and raised there until an invasion came and destroyed my family. It was the first phase of a war that would last for decades. I signed up with the military, escaped them to join the Time Agency,” he paused for a moment, chuckling softly. “I was quite the go-to guy for them until they betrayed me and stole two years of my memories.”

“You were obliviated?”

“Something similar, but far more permanent,” Jack nodded. “I became a conman, conning the agency in an attempt to find out why it was done and to try to get my memories back. Met a girl in London, she was something but it was her traveling companion who changed me. Traveled with them for a while, all through time and space, until we ended up in another war,” Jack paused, his jaw clenched as he remembered the game station and the events there. After a moment, and a hard swallow, he continued, “I died, came back, and then spent a hundred years waiting for the Doctor, that was the girl’s companion’s name, to return so I could find out what happened to me. And for all those years, I gave up on finding love, having a family…”

“So what about Ianto?” Draco asked.

“Ianto…” Jack smiled and rested his temple on the glass of the window. “Ianto slipped under my radar. I didn’t realize what was happening until I’d already fallen and then it was too late.” He twisted to smile widely at Draco. “Much like young Mr. Potter has done with you, if my suspicions are correct.”

“Harry,… he…” Draco trailed off and blushed. After a moment, he shrugged. “Another thing which won’t matter in the long term,” he said.

"I thought that, too. I thought, even though I had feelings for Ianto, it wouldn't matter in the long run. I'm immortal, he's not. No matter how long he lives, whether it’s fifty more years or five, I will outlive him. For the longest time I thought that if I kept him at a distance that it wouldn't hurt as much when I lost him. I just ended up hurting both of us unnecessarily.”

“You do know most wizards live for well over a century.”

“It's still not enough time,” Jack murmured. He shook his head, refusing to think of the potential of Ianto’s death no matter when it would occur, and instead went back to trying to convince Draco to live his own life. “But that's not what's important, Draco. What's important is that we are making the most of the time we have with each other. Don't let your sense of duty...”

“Sir, you live in a world where you can do what you want. Ianto... he’s all but abandoned this society. I have to live in it. I have to be the next Malfoy... it’s not something I can abandon, sir. There...” he paused, twisted and stared intently at Jack. “There are implications beyond just my personal feelings to my turning my back on the Malfoys, that duty and all the centuries of tradition which go with the Malfoy name.”

“Is this the same duty and tradition that have allowed Voldemort to control your lives and your fortunes for his own ends?”

“Some of it, but some of it is the magic.” He held Jack’s gaze with his own. “You should ask Ianto about it some time.”

“And you should ask him about how it feels to escape from all of that.”

“I don’t have to ask, sir,” Draco said with a laugh. “I can see how he feels, but he’s still the Lestrange heir even if he doesn’t use the name anymore.”

“Damned stubborn wizards,” Jack muttered. He thought he said it low enough that his companion wouldn’t hear him, but the bright laughter from Draco told him the boy heard every word.

“You love us anyway, sir.”

“I’ve never been able to back away from a challenge, Draco.”

“Sir, I can’t make any decisions about the future,” he said. He reached out and rested a hand on Jack’s wrist over the strap. He squeezed for a moment and then dropped his hand. “There’s Voldemort, his war, and my father…”

“I’m not asking you to make a decision right now, son.” Jack paused at Draco’s shocked gasp. “Just think about what I’ve said.” He smiled and fought down the urge to hug the boy. Instead, he spoke what was his mantra, “Remember, it’s the twenty-first century…”

“And that’s when everything changes.” Draco laughed gaily at Jack’s affronted look. “Yes, I know, sir.” He slowly straightened his back, took a deep breath and started for the door. “I will remember, sir. I think…”

“What?”

“I think that I’m about to come to that fork which Mr. Frost talks about in _Mountain Interval,_ sir,” he said while laying a hand on the door to the room. “I just hope I have the strength to make the proper choice when I get there.”

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ***

Jack didn’t know how long he stared after Draco before Ianto came into the room. He blinked, once then twice at his lover before he shook his head and replied to the half-heard question Ianto had asked him. “I will be,” he murmured. He looked at the table in front of them and smiled. The room had once again anticipated his needs. “I’ve got something I need to take care of. Do you know if Draco’s left yet?”

“He hasn’t,” Ianto replied. He fell in step with Jack as the Captain snatched both guns off the table. The Webley was holstered by Jack’s side while the Torchwood style Sig Sauer was slipped into a leather holster which appeared on the momentarily empty table. “His father’s owl arrived, though, to warn Dumbledore that he would be arriving in just a few minutes.”

“Stall him?”

Ianto shook his head with a laugh and held the door for Jack. “Dumbledore is already planning on doing just that,” he replied. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when Jack stopped just outside the Room of Requirement to flip open his wrist strap.

“I have to do something, love,” Jack murmured. He leant forward and briefly kissed Ianto before typing in the coordinates for the Slytherin Common Room. “Meet me in our quarters?”

“Of course,” Ianto smiled. “Give my good wishes to Draco.” He chuckled at Jack’s surprised look. “I know everything, sir, remember? I might be late. I want to check on a few of the students. Something…”

“You feel it, too?”

“Yeah,” Ianto nodded. “It’s like when the Rift is quiet for just a bit too long. You know it’s about to break wide open, but don’t know the exact time of the break.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.” Ianto watched Jack transport out to visit Draco and sighed. He loosened his gun in its holster and started down the corridor. It would take some time to reach first the Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw towers. He wanted to check in with their small group of dedicated Gryffindors before retrieving Luna from Ravenclaw. The same instinct which told him when the Rift would be more active was nagging at him that the slightly flighty blonde wasn’t safe amongst her classmates. He only made it a few feet down the corridor before his eldest daughter joined him with her sister in her arms.

“Oh, _cariad_ ,” Ianto murmured. He took Mica from Hermione and rubbed her back. “It’s okay.”

“Want Draco!” Mica wailed in his ear. “No go.”

“I know you do,” Ianto said. “But Draco has to go home. He’ll be back before you know it.” Mica just pouted at him. Ianto sighed and looked over at Hermione. “Driving you insane, is she?”

“Totally,” Hermione replied with a smile. “Since Harry’s being all smug in front of the supply closet by the infirmary, I figured I’d best find you since Aunt Tosh and Uncle Owen would be otherwise engaged.”

“Is he still locking them in the closet?”

“Seems so.” She shook her head and shoved her hair out of her face again. “I think the matchmaking is an attempt to distract himself from the situation with Draco.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Ianto agreed. “I made so much coffee while I was trying to ignore my attraction to your father.” He considered his oldest daughter for a long moment. “How’s your romance going?”

“It’s not,” she conceded. She looked away, sighed, and started walking again. “I think I understand Pansy’s reasons better than Harry does Draco’s, but it’s hard, Tad.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hermione,” Ianto replied. He turned down the corridor toward the Ravenclaw tower. “Just be patient. If you truly care for her, all you can do now is wait for her to come to you.” He shrugged one shoulder at her. “Just don’t ask me for any advice regarding sex; you’re better off getting that from Tosh.”

“I know,” Hermione smirked up at Ianto. “She told me about Mary. And I am your daughter.”

“Brat,” Ianto replied with a soft laugh. He walked a bit further before stepping into an alcove and tugging Hermione in with him. “Speaking of, I want to ask you something. I’m asking you to seriously consider this before giving me your answer.”

“Okay.”

“You know that outside of the wizarding world, Mica carries mine and Jack’s name,” he began. “I’d like to give you that option as well. If you want it, I’ll talk to Tosh and…”

“I don’t know, Tad,” Hermione interrupted. “Mom… I mean Monica… you know what she thinks of Dad and…”

“I know,” Ianto shook his head tiredly. “It hurts so much to see him after he tries to talk to your mother and her sister. You do know about Alice, right?”

“Yep.”

“Anyway, he tries to talk to them and they refuse to listen. The older they get the more stubborn they seem to get as well. Determined to cut him off from their families,” Ianto paused and stared at Hermione. “I never want to see him like that again. When you ran this past summer and started returning his letters, he cried, Hermione, and I felt like it was my fault because it was me that made you run.”

“It wasn’t you, Tad,” Hermione snapped. “I let this place drill things into me. I stopped thinking for myself and let it take over for me. I should have listened then and didn’t.” She looked down the corridor, seeing someone slip from the Ravenclaw tower, but didn’t recognize the person sneaking out so close to curfew. “Has he forgiven me?”

“You know he has,” Ianto replied. He reached out and cupped Hermione’s cheek. “It’s late. You should get down to Slytherin.”

“What are you doing, though?”

“Following a feeling,” Ianto murmured as he started walking again. “I’m going to pull Luna from the Ravenclaw dorm. Ask her to watch Mica tonight as an excuse to keep her out of the tower.” He looked over at Hermione. “It’s just a feeling but…”

“Always trust the feelings,” Hermione finished. “Dad taught me that.” She stretched up and kissed Ianto’s cheek. “I’m going to run down, see if I can catch Draco before he leaves then head to bed. See you tomorrow for the Yule Ball?”

“Save me a dance?”

“Of course.” Hermione grinned at him. “Night, Tad.”

Ianto watched his daughter run down the corridor and onto the moving staircases. He stared silently after her for several minutes before continuing on his mission to get Luna. That same nagging feeling which told him the building war was about to begin told him these were likely the last moments of carefree innocence, if his daughter could be considered innocent after her previous four years of schooling, in Hermione’s life. Maybe it would be better to say in any of the children’s lives. That would be more honest. He wished he could defend them, protect them better, but everything was out of his hands now. All the players were in place, time to let the dice fall where they would. Resolved to the course, Ianto reached up and knocked on the door to the Ravenclaw common room.

*** CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE ***

Harry knocked once, hard, on the door to Pansy and Hermione’s suite of room. He didn’t wait for an answer, just put his hand in front of his face and shoved the door open. “Hermione?” he called. “Pansy? You two decent?”

“Put your hand down, Potter,” Pansy snapped. “We’re dressed.” She rose, grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the room. “Blaise is already here with the firewhiskey. We were expecting you.”

“Can’t drink,” Harry replied. “Even if I wanted to, there’s…”

“You feel it, too,” Hermione interrupted.

“Feel it?” Harry asked confused. “No, my scar is acting up. I’ve got a horrible headache and was hoping one of you two would be willing to come with me up to the hospital wing to get a potion for it.”

“Harry…” Hermione began. She looked at the other two Slytherins in the room and debated for all of thirty seconds. “It’s Voldemort, isn’t it? What’s he done?”

“He’s feeling smug about something,” Harry replied after a moment’s thought. “But what I don’t know. Why?”

“Tad said he felt something was coming. He was getting Luna out of the Ravenclaw tower because of it.” Hermione stood and looked down at her clothes. She pulled her wand and transfigured her school skirt into jeans. “That’ll be better. Want me to do you, Pansy?”

“Can I watch?” Blaise interjected before Pansy could answer. “Please? I’ll be good. No commentary…”

“Shut it,” Hermione snapped. She watched Pansy for a moment and as soon as her friend nodded transfigured her outfit to match Hermione’s. She offered Pansy a hand, pulled her up, and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “You don’t have to come with us…” she murmured. She knew if Pansy sided with her and Harry in the fight they all knew was coming, she’d be cutting ties and putting a target on her back.

“If you think I’m staying here like a good little pureblood woman,” Pansy began with a snarl. She grabbed her hair up with one hand, twisted it, and shoved a handy piece of wood into the resulting knot. “You are sadly mistaken Hermione Jane Lestrange.”

“Harkness-Jones,” Hermione corrected. She gave Pansy a grin, very reminiscent of her father, and nodded. “Hermione Jane Harkness-Jones. We need to get to Dad and Tad without getting caught. They have our weapons.”

“Not all of them,” Blaise interjected. “My room first, then we head for your fathers.” He chuckled softly at the looks from the other teens. “Think about it, ‘Mione,” he said. “If I told you I was _Consigliere Zabini_ would that help?”

“You… oh!” Hermione nodded. “All right, your room first.”

The small group of students trooped down the hall to Blaise’s room. They stood quietly in the hall while he unlocked the room using both spells and a standard key before waving them inside. “After the Captain began his instruction, I sent messages to my father. The hardest part was concealing these while sending them by post.” He crouched down and flipped open a trunk. Reaching inside, he pulled out various weapons and handed them out. “Harry, you prefer a smaller pistol, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I’m not good with them, but I’m steady enough to manage.” He accepted the Luger handed to him by Blaise, checking it over before taking the extra clips the other boy held out to him and tucking all but one away in his jeans. The last was slapped into the gun before the gun was tucked into the waist of his jeans. Harry watched as both girls accepted guns and repeated his motions.

Blaise closed the trunk, his own gun in hand, and nodded to the others. He smiled coldly and tucked his pistol in the back of his jeans before covering it with his jumper. “Now we can go,” he said.

“No, we need one last thing,” Harry said. “The map. It’ll be easier to move about with it.” He quirked a grin at Hermione. “Plus it has all the secret passages on it. We should be able to get to the defense corridor from the dungeon by one without getting caught.”

“Good plan,” Hermione agreed.

The group moved down the hall, paused long enough for Harry to get and consult with the map, before continuing on to the common room and the passage noted within it which connected to the Ravenclaw corridor. From there, it was only two corridors and a staircase down to get to the defense classroom and the Harkness-Jones quarters. They moved quickly, quietly through the dusty cobwebby passage until they reached the upper end. Pausing there, Harry cast a soft lumos spell and opened the map again.

“Guys, we have a problem,” Harry hissed. He shifted the map, offering a corner of it to Blaise to hold, and nodded to the north tower. “Pavarti’s on the map again. And…”

“Those are known Death Eaters,” Blaise snapped. “Where’s Draco?”

“Not here,” Harry scanned the map quickly. “But it looks like his father is.” He stared at the map, glancing about for the teachers, and shook his head. “Dumbledore seems to be the only one aware of the situation. He’s heading up there, but the Death Eaters will be out of the tower before he gets there.” Harry looked up at the other three. “What do we…?”

“Blaise, you and Harry head for the tower, but be careful,” Hermione ordered. “See if you can stall them. Pansy, go for Gryffindor, get Ron and Lavender, Neville and Ginny, but make sure the rest of the students don’t come out to play brave little Gryffindors.”

“What are you going to do?” Pansy asked.

“I’m going for Dad.”

Harry checked the map one more time, nodded, and folded it away. He banished it back to his room in Slytherin, reached out and pressed a hand to the back of the passage entrance. “Ready?” he asked, slowly pulling his pistol from his jeans. He waited for the others to nod and opened the door. “Let’s go then.”

Hermione waited until last to slip out of the passageway. She watched for a moment as Pansy, Harry and Blaise ran down the corridor. Pansy peeled off from the other two to head for Gryffindor. Hermione took a deep breath, closed the door to the passageway and walked briskly down the corridor to her father’s rooms. Once there, she repeatedly pounded on the door until a slightly dishelved Ianto opened the door and glared at her. “Sorry, Tad, but…”

“What is it, Hermione?” Jack asked, leaning around the door over Ianto’s shoulder.

“Padma let the Death Eaters into the castle.” She swallowed and looked over her shoulder. “Blaise and Harry went to slow them down at the North Tower. Pansy’s gone for the Gryffindor gang.”

“Fuck,” Jack snapped. “All right… Ianto…”

“We can’t do it, Jack. There’s no time, but the castle should keep the children locked in their common rooms if we ask Minerva or Dumbledore to order it to.”

“You’ll have to ask Professor McGonagall,” Hermione added. “The Headmaster is headed for the North Tower.”

“That…” Jack shook his head, grabbed his Webley and headed out the door. “Ianto…”

“I know.” Ianto nodded. “Go.” He waited for Jack to run off before turning to Hermione. “Go to Minerva. Tell her what you told us and ask her to get the castle to protect the students. Then come back here if you can and help Luna guard Mica. I have to follow Jack.”

“Yes, Tad,” she agreed. Hermione reached up with one arm and hugged Ianto. “Be careful.”

“You, too,” Ianto said. “Now go.” He watched her run off down the corridor before heading back inside. He smiled at Luna, handed her her favorite gun, and nodded. “I’ll send Mipsy here to help and Hermione’s going to come back, but guard Mica for me, Luna. She’s the most vulnerable of the children in the castle.”

She didn’t answer him, just nodded and tugged a chair over to face the door. Ianto nodded back, grabbed his own gun and ran out the door. He slammed it closed behind him and tore through the defense classroom toward where he could hear curses being shouted in the corridors. He tore around a corner toward the staircase tower and stopped so quickly he almost tripped himself at the sight of the woman in front of him. He clenched his jaw, firmed his resolve and pulled both gun and wand on her. “Hello, Mother.”

*** CHAPTER THIRTY ***

“Sarin.” She stared at him for a long moment. “You’ve grown up.”

“That happens,” Ianto replied. He fought the urge to cry at the sight of his mother. Gone was the beautiful pureblood wife and mother of his childhood memories, replaced with this crazed figure. Her madness was plain to see in her eyes, the tangled curls which whipped about her in the chill breeze coming from the shattered castle windows. “Why are you doing this?”

“My Lord demands it.”

“Your so-called Lord is nothing, Mother,” Ianto snapped back. He took a step toward her. Even now, seeing her like this, wand at the ready to destroy Hogwarts, he couldn’t attack her. “Tell me something, if he ordered you to, would you kill me?”

“He is My Lord,” Bellatrix replied. “He tells me, and dear, dear Lucius confirmed it, that you’re a blood-traitor.” She cackled and raised her wand. “And an unnatural one at that. Sleeping with a man… a muggle man at that… no child of mine…”

Ianto yelped, dropping his pistol, but still manage to dodge the curse she cast on him. He honestly hadn’t expected her to attack him, but now that she had he forced away all thought of her as his mother and focused on the fact that she was one of the highest ranked Death Eaters. He stepped back, luring her in, before attacking her in turn. A decade since he’d last dueled, but he still knew how. As the magic flowed through him, he remembered the lessons he’d learned from her, his father and his uncle.

“Sarin, my Sarin” she taunted. “You can’t win against me!” She cast another curse at him. “I was and am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant.” She moved forward, all but chasing Ianto down the stairs toward the entrance hall. “I learned the Dark Arts from him. I’m certain you remember, my son.” She paused in the duel to hold a hand out toward him. “Renounce the muggle and join us. My Lord will grant you favor and power such as you could never imagine.”

“And my daughters?” Ianto snapped back. He leapt off the last of the stairs into the hall. “Tell me what would that half-blood you call lord want done to them? Or have you forgotten about them?” Ianto cast another curse at Bellatrix while he moved back from the stairs. “The greatest witch of her age is my oldest…” he broke off for a moment to dodge another cutting curse. “Of course, her sister, my Mica… and yes, Mother, mine in just the way you are thinking, is just as powerful if not more so…”

“No….” Bellatrix’s howl of denial echoed through the entrance hall. “My son is not a freak. You lie.”

“Do I?” Ianto snarled. He saw movement at the top of the stairs behind Bellatrix and almost smiled in response but quickly refocused his attention on his mother. He took another step to the side and gave a barely there nod to confirm he was out of the direct line of fire. “Do you really think I would lie about my children?”

“Grandmother!” Hermione screamed from the top of the stairs. She stepped out into the open and fired at Bellatrix. “Don’t even think of calling my father a freak!”

The distraction was enough to allow Ianto to summon his pistol from the top of the staircase. He flicked the safety off and yelled, “Hermione! Get to Mica. If Bellatrix is here so are…”

“I know, Tad.” She waved a hand in acknowledgement. “Get the bitch.” She pointed to where Bellatrix was levitating herself toward a broken window to make her escape from the castle. “I’ll see you there!”

Trusting in Hermione to take care of Mica, Ianto cursed and took off after his mother. She had too much of a head start for him to stop her from getting out of the castle, but he was going to do his damnedest to stop her from getting off the grounds of Hogwarts.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jack pelted down the corridor toward the North Tower. He could hear rapid gunfire and curses from the boys Hermione had mentioned. He skidded around the corner and jumped back out of the way as Harry attempted to fire at him. “It’s me!”

“Announce yourself next time, sir!” Harry snapped back. “A couple of them got past us, but most are still in the tower.”

“And the Headmaster?”

“He’s up there, too,” Blaise growled while changing clips.

“Shit.” Jack sighed. “Stay here… but don’t get killed.” He started past them, dodging curses and firing the occasional well placed shot as he moved toward the tower stairs. “Don’t let them get away, Harry.”

“Do my best, sir.”

Jack gave a distracted nod as he continued up the stairs. He had one moment of debate with himself before deciding that this was indeed the first fight of the war. With that in mind, he shot to kill not wound. He stepped over the bodies of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle with a despairing sigh while creeping further up the tower stairs. He stuck to the shadows, taking any clear shot he could, until he reached the top. There stood an unexpected trio of combatants. Lucius Malfoy, flanked by Padma Patil, faced off against Albus Dumbledore.

Jack stepped into the room, circling the edges of it until he could join the Headmaster. “Sir,” he said quietly. “Couldn’t you have scheduled the start of the war better? I was about to get very lucky…”

“Oh, yuck!” Padma interrupted. “Why don’t you shut up? We don’t care about you or your sex life.”

Jack dropped his flirtatious nature and stared down at the girl. “Why turn on your friends, Padma?” he asked. “Why do this? What has Tom Riddle offered you that you couldn’t come by honestly?”

“Everything,” she replied with a smug little smile. “Starting with Draco Malfoy.” She looked up at the man beside her and grinned. “I’m just hoping he’s as good as his father.”

Jack had to swallow back the urge to vomit in response to that remark. He took a half step in front of the Headmaster only to pause when the old wizard laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Step aside, my boy,” Dumbledore murmured. “If she’s set on her course, best not be in her way.”

“Sir….?” Jack asked. He couldn’t believe the man’s actions. Why was he sacrificing himself? Jack just stared at the scene, listening in disbelief as the Headmaster spoke of reconciliation and promises of safety. “She’s not…” he didn’t get to finish his warning as first Padma, then Lucius raised their wands. He didn’t even get a moment to warn or fire his Webley when they simultaneously cast their chosen spell. Only a moment to think, _oh fuck this is going to hurt_ , and scream a useless denial before the world turned black. He did know, even as he tumbled into death, that the Headmaster was dead.

* * *

The sound of a very familiar shout broke Ianto’s attention from his fight with Bellatrix. He looked over to the side and recognized both the bodies falling toward the courtyard from the tower and the sign glowing in the sky above it. His mother’s cackling laugh barely registered on him as he took off at a dead run toward the bodies on the cobblestones. “Jack!” he cried as he ran. He hated the mere thought of his lover suffering another traumatic death by falling but, from the limp way he fell, Ianto suspected Jack was already dead.

Reaching the courtyard, he took a moment to check the second body. Twinned together, the remains of the Headmaster lay half-on, half-beside Jack where they’d both crashed to the ground. Ianto carefully moved Dumbledore’s body to the side and gathered Jack into his arms. He could feel his lover’s bones knitting back together, hear the snap as his spine realigned, and just held Jack as he heard the sounds of both the Death Eaters fleeing and the Hogwarts defenders coming to stand around him at the scene.

“Mr. Jones,” Minerva’s voice drifted through the now quiet scene. “Ianto… I’m very sorry.” She clasped his shoulder and tried to gently pull him away from Jack. “Come, you need to see to Mica and Hermione.”

Ianto snarled a wordless denial and jerked from her hold. He glared up at her. “He’s coming back,” he growled. He dropped his gaze back to Jack and brushed his lover’s hair back from his forehead. He could hear the shuffling of the watchers. Was almost certain he heard Owen and Hermione talking in harsh whispers, but his only focus was on Jack.

“He’s as crazy as his mother.” Someone in the crowd said. He heard that same voice say, slightly louder, “Perhaps, Doctor Harper, you should sedate him.”

“Can’t…”

“I have something very important to tell you, _cariad,”_ Ianto whispered in Jack’s ear. He ignored Owen’s protests against sedating him in favor of tightening his hold on Jack. He felt his lover’s heart start to beat beneath his hand and braced himself for that first struggle for breath. A harsh gasp, the arch of Jack’s back as Jack grabbed onto Ianto, and the shocked cries of the onlookers blended together into a chorus of white noise as Ianto murmured reassurances to Jack. “Shh, I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

“Ianto…” Jack panted. “The Headmaster…”

“I’m sorry, Jack.” Ianto brushed Jack’s hair back again. “He’s dead.”

“I know,” Jack murmured sadly. “Help me up?”

Ianto rose, helped Jack up from the cobblestones, and took a breath before letting it out slowly. He knew what Jack was doing, focusing on the work to be done rather than his own lingering pain, and simply stood by his side with a hand on his back in silent support while Jack got reports from the staff and students. Ianto scanned the crowd of watchers. He saw Hermione, one arm around Pansy while she talked to Harry, next to them stood the two youngest Weasleys with their respective significant others, while Blaise held Luna and demanded Owen look at the sluggishly bleeding lump on her temple.

Shaking his head, Ianto looked again. He even saw the family house elves both bearing injuries being looked at by Toshiko and Madam Pomfrey, but the most important person to him next to Jack and Hermione wasn’t there. “Hermione!” he called across the group. Something in his voice must have shown his worry because everyone shut up after he said his oldest daughter’s name. “Where’s Mica?”

 


End file.
